From Where You Are
by Waterlilies
Summary: AU. "I'm doing this my way." He cornered her against the lockers with both of his hands slamming against the metal, and entrapping her in his gaze. "I need you to do this for me." Pairings: Natasha x Clint, Pepper x Tony. Part canon and movieverse.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Hi All! Thanks for stopping by. Here is another story for Clintasha. It will be AU with multiple chapters, and updates will be sporadic. And thank you to those who read All I Need. I was blown away by the statistics, and thank you to those who have added it to their favorite lists. Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. Comments/critiques are greatly appreciated.

* * *

Tendrils of grass licked at her ankles as she climbed up the hill. Her green eyes grew accustomed to the dwindling twilight, but there was a sense of urgency in the air. In the distance, she could hear police sirens racing towards the quiet neighborhood.

This wasn't the first time that something like this happened. In the back of her mind, her worry grew into something fierce, as she hated that she couldn't do anything else but to sound the alarm for real this time. _Please be safe. _She leapt over a fallen log and finally picked up a path of flattened grass. She was getting closer.

She saw the outline of his body against the calm summer night. She collected her breath and walked over. Her hand gently lay on his shoulder, as she could feel him shudder at the lightest touch. "Clint…"

He sat there in silence, not wanting to look up at her. "Leave," he growled.

"Clint…" her hand remained on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"I said leave," he barked back, and pushed her hand aside.

She stood her ground and sat next to him on the rotten log. "Talk to me."

"What's there to talk?" he retorted back without looking at her.

"How bad is it?" her voice was firm.

"Leave."

"Barton, look at me." The red head was getting tired of this song and dance. "I heard two sirens go off tonight." She saw the faint traces of a bruise outlining his right eye. The purplish hue caught the moonlight. "Clint…" her head tilted to one side to get a better glimpse.

"It's bad alright," he turned towards her and winced in pain. "He was drunk again."

"You need help, Clint," her emerald eyes pleaded with him. "I'm scared for you…"

"Scared about what?" he spat up some blood.

"That you'll end up dead."

He scooted away from her, "You don't need to worry about me, Nat, I can handle it."

"You _can't_, and you damn well know it."

His hands ran through his hair and let out a breath of frustration.

"It's alright to be afraid," she whispered, as she reached out towards him. "Just promise me, you'll be safe somehow."

"Fine," his voice resigned to the fact that he was going to lose this fight, whether he liked it or not.

The two sat in silence again, as they heard the commotion die in the background. Occasional curses came their way. Nights like these they wish they were somewhere else. She bent over to the ground and picked up her little kit. Without any words, she tended to his eye and to a cut above his eyebrow. The simple gesture was all enough for him at the moment.

His stormy gray eyes caught hers several times, but no words were still exchanged. He just let her do her work, as her fingers rummaged for more gauze. He remembered the first time he met her. He was goofing off in the school's cafeteria and had knocked over his pop can from the table. At the very moment, Natasha was walking by and the dark liquid splattered on her beige skirt. Her immediate reaction was giving him a death glare, which he was surprised to say the least. And since then, they both challenged each other in their own unique ways.

"You should make an appearance," as she finished placing the last gauze over his cut.

"I know."

She watched him get up from the log, and saw him wince, as he pulled at his side. She hated seeing him like this, but she couldn't stop it. She reached out for his hand, and the pair descended down the hill again. In the pale moonlight, she saw traces of dried blood on the sides of his t-shirt.

Neighbors started to peek out their windows to see what the commotion was about. Everyone on that block knew something was going on, but no one ever reported it. For a year now, the secret festered with occasional police cars monitoring the Barton household especially during the holidays.

The unlikely pair emerged from a corner and walked without acknowledging anyone. They could feel the eyes focus on their backsides, as they walked in tandem. Clint with a bruised eye and bloodied shirt, while Nat stood by him, staring anyone down. They finally made it up to the porch, where the front lights hauntingly deceived everyone.

Clint bristled at the sight, as he watched an officer haul out his stepbrother in handcuffs. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nat ready to jump at him to claw his eyes out, but he pulled her back before she could do anything. The older imbecile laughed as he finally was shoved in the back of police car.

"Get him outta here," the officer shouted as he tapped on the back of the car.

The pair watched the squad car drive out in the darkness.

"You need to see someone," the officer went back to Clint.

The teenager crossed his arms in defense, "I'm fine."

"Don't be stubborn, son." The officer shifted his weight on his shoes. "We got in touch with your grandmother. She's coming tomorrow."

Nat looked at him and saw his face drop.

"Get into the ambulance now," the officer ordered. "You can have your friend come with you."

"I'll go alone."

…

She shifted uncomfortably on the bench with a light blanket wrapped around her shoulders, as she waited for him to come home. She could feel her heavy-laden eyelids begin to droop, and slowly, she let sleep overcome her in the late evening. Periodically, she listened for the steady crunch come from cars as they traveled through the quiet neighborhood, but none of them came from the paved driveway that led up to the broken home.

She shifted again, as she faced away from the street and drifted off to sleep again.

"Wake up," a low voice came from behind her.

"Mmm." She swatted away at the hand and pulled her blanked up at her shoulders.

"Natasha," and he continued to poke at her shoulders.

She slowly turned to face him, and mumbled a few incoherent syllables in a foreign language, "You're back."

"Yeah," he watched her curl her legs to her body, and sat down on the bench. "You slept out here all night?"

"I was waiting for you, stupid." She still had her eyes closed. "Why didn't you let me go with you?"

He sat in silence watching a few summer bugs gather at the porch light. "I didn't want you there." A hand flew at his face and grazed his skin, as he dodged the sudden movement. It was a familiar move that he picked up while they were sparring partners in gym class.

"You're still stupid," she muttered, trying to ignore him for the moment.

"Doc says two broken ribs and a few stitches, but nothing else."

"You had me worry, Barton." She tried to hold back a tear that was forcing its way out. "Not once, did I ever like getting those texts from you."

He collected her in his embrace, not realizing the full impact of their relationship from the start. "Sorry," he leaned his head on her crown of matted, red curls. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

The two remained that way on the porch, as they knew their time was running out. Clint continued to hold her as she slept, while he watched the sky shift from the darkness to dull lavender with streaks of ruby at the horizon. By now, the crickets had finished their evening serenade with several mockingbirds joining in to start the day. He winced again as she shifted in his arms, as one of her elbows touched his battered rib. "Ow," he muttered.

Nat woke up from her light sleep, and saw him in pain, "Sorry."

"I'll live," he grinned.

"What time will she be here?"

"Soon."

"Sorry about ruining the dance too," after realizing what day it was.

"Don't be," she poked him in his bicep. "I rather spend time with you like this and not play dress up."

"Really?"

"Yeah." Her green eyes gazed up at him, as he was still on guard for his stepbrother. She wished she could take the pain away from him. "You're alive, Clint, and that is all that matters."

"I better start packing."

"I guess," she could feel the warmth from his skin fading away as he stood up.

"Stay here, I'll be right back," he turned to the front door and disappeared.

Inside, the house was in such disarray with overturned chairs and broken dishes. He quickly climbed the stairs, ignoring his cramped muscles and went to his room. It was his sanctuary, where he could watch Nat from his window. He never did tell her that he did. He recalled how she sometimes slept at her desk with a book and notebook tucked underneath her head to times where she was brushing her fiery hair. These were the mundane moments that made his life more bearable.

He eyed his mini refrigerator and took out the plastic box. It was a simple corsage of a dark, pink rose with Baby's Breath scattered throughout. "Nat, what are you doing up here?" he nearly jumped at the sight of her at the doorway. "I told you to stay down there."

"You know I don't listen," she eyed him.

He walked over towards her, "This is for you," and handed the gift towards her. "It was for tonight."

"Thanks," she smiled back at him. "It's lovely." She gingerly took out the small flower arrangement and placed it over her wrist.

As she was admiring the flower, he stepped closer and kissed her on the cheek without hesitation.

She felt her breath get stuck in her throat, and started to look around the room for any distraction minus Clint. It was something she wasn't expecting, "Um," she eyed a black duffle bag along with several boxes in the corner, "You should start packing."

She felt a small blush creep up on her cheeks.

This was one in the few times that he watched her become unglued, and he reveled in it that he had this effect on her. He watched her pace back and forth, as she tossed several items haphazardly in the duffle bag. "Slow down."

"Slow down?" She looked pensively at him. "My best friend is leaving in two hours, and you tell me to slow down!" And there it was again. That feeling that tore inside of her. "I'm not going to see you again," another tear was about to breakthrough.

"It's going to be alright," he whispered into her ear and grabbed the t-shirt out of her hands. "You don't need to be strong for the both of us."

"Clint."

"I'll finish packing, and I don't want you to stay to watch me leave."

"But…" Her green eyes pleaded with his.

"No buts." He walked over to his bed and bent down to gather some of his clothes that Nat had tossed over earlier. "We'll find each other again." He looked over towards her, but caught the last glimpse of her red curls as she made her way downstairs. In seconds, he heard the front door slam. The loud noise echoed throughout the broken home, and resonated in his room.

On his desk, a metal frame rattled with the vibration. It held a picture of them sitting underneath a tree with broad leaves with shades of reds and golds. He picked up the frame and had his thumb graze over the image. It was a happier time back then when life was much simpler and it made sense. He carefully packed it in his duffle bag.

Not soon after, he heard a car pull up into the driveway. His world was slipping away from him, as he packed the last of the things he could carry. He stole one more glance out his window, wondering what she was doing at the very moment. Across the street, the light blue curtains impeded his view. Without looking back, he gathered his duffle bag and one small box in his arms.

"Ready?" The middle-aged woman with a rural accent went up to him, and took his items from his arms.

He nodded in response. His gray eyes looked upon his home for the past seventeen years, as he stood by the car door, trying to take in the happier memories with him, which were far and few in between. He scooted onto the passenger seat, and out of the corner of the mirror, he saw a flutter of a familiar blue curtain. _Natasha. _


	2. Chapter 2

The unrelenting sun pounded its rays against the gravel pavement, as his footsteps continued to trek forward, kicking up dust and sand in the humid air. It was an unusual summer pattern out in the rural farmland. Rows of corn were starting to become stunted for the lack of vital water. Even the forecasts looked grim, since no rain was in sight for the next week.

Clint dug into his pocket, and pulled out his useless cellphone. On it, there still was no signal. Even on his way back to this small rural town, he didn't see a cell tower for miles.

_Fuck_.

He hated how he left things back home. There was so much still left to do, and now, he was here in the middle of nowhere. If he hadn't gone with his grandmother, he would've been placed in the foster system or become some ward of the state. Who knew where he would end up next from that point…it could've been far worse. With his grandmother, at least it would give him some stability and away from the chaos his stepbrother brought. The beatings would end.

_Just one more year and then freedom._

A small gas station came into his view, as the heat rolled against the concrete pavement. There was hardly anyone out at this time of day. The sun barely lurched further into the late morning sky.

A pair of two old gentlemen with wide brimmed hats sat in their chairs, as they watched the new addition to the town walk by. "You must be Johanna's grandson," one of them drawled in their thick country accent.

He hoped he wouldn't lose his city accent, "Yes. Is there a payphone nearby?"

"Right down yonder in the back," the old man pointed out with his rifle.

Clint made a mental note not to mess with these two. As he rounded the corner, he saw the weathered booth. Weeds were starting to encroach the hinges. He dug into his pockets, hoping to catch any change. The headset was worn away with the black paint peeling off. _Here goes nothing_. On the other end, there was a dial tone and he automatically punched in the numbers. Maybe she was home and maybe not. It was a shot worth taking. The phone kept ringing and ringing. It was longest ten seconds, and he felt his stomach lurch forward in knots.

The sun continue pelt down unconditionally, and it was getting hot standing in the phone booth, even with the doors wide open. His ears listened to the all-familiar message from Nat's voice. "You've reached the Romanoff Residence. Please leave your name…"He slammed the headset back in its carrier, and he sighed in defeat. At least, he heard her voice temporarily.

He started to head out on the road again. There was no use sticking around the gas station, in hopes a passerby would have a working cellphone. He thought about writing letters to her, but thought better of it, in case his stepbrother was to find out his current location.

He continued on walking for another hour until he came across a tent in a sea of emerald crops. Workers were bustling about the main tent and smaller ones, as they carried on without him being noticed.

A small squawk came from a nearby tent and he peeked in to see a hawk, sitting on its perch. Its beige wing was wrapped in several bandages. His hand hovered over the creature, "I would be careful if I were you. She bites."

Clint stepped away from the avian critter and looked for an exit. "Sorry."

The older man went to an aluminum can and pulled out several pieces of raw meat. "It's lunch time for her," he chuckled. "I don't reckon I saw you before."

"I'm not part of the circus."

He smiled and continued to feed the bird. "We found her on the side of the road. Someone shot her down with a BB gun. Awful shame if you ask me." He coaxed her to move from her perch. "Are you looking for a job?"

"Not really," he stood still as he watched the man continue to toss scraps of meat in the air. "But if you are offering, what would it be?"

"Of course, feeding the birds," he laughed. "The pay won't be great, but I can offer teaching lessons."

"In what?" He crossed his arms.

"Well let's see," the older man's hazel eyes fell upon an arrow. "How about archery?"

The thought of launching arrows piqued his interests, "I'm game."

"Good then. I expect the birds to be fed daily before the show, and we'll have our training sessions on Thursday afternoons." The burly man with a buzz cut turned on his heels and left the hawk on it's perch again, "I'm Buck."

"Clint Barton," the scrawny teenager stretched out his arms.

"I see we have a lot of work to do. Your arms are like sticks." He bellowed out a laugh that encircled the tent.

"Hn."

"See ya around, kid."

He watched his newfound friend walk out in the blazing, wet heat, and he was beside himself with the hawk again. Its charcoal eyes continued to stare at him, as he went over to the bow and arrows. His fingers traced over the deadly weapons. _Maybe this won't be bad after all_.

…

Three weeks passed, and there was still no luck. His arm held steady, as he was ready to release an arrow for the umpteenth time. _Thwack_. The wood slammed against his arm. Even with his three armbands, the projectile stung against his arm.

"You need to keep your arm parallel…like this," as Buck made a move to release an invisible arrow. "At least your arm is better than sticks now," he chuckled.

Clint adjusted his armbands and took a breather. "Easy for you to say."

"Just practice," he grabbed the one end of his own bow and tapped against Clint's knee. "Again."

His gray eyes narrowed as he focused on the target. In the background, he could feel all eyes were watching on him including the hawks that he was caring for. His fingers wound around the bowstring and he could feel the tension increasing. His left arm held steady, as he placed the arrow into position, protesting in being pulled back, and with that, he let go. This time is sliced through the air and eventually landing where Buck was sitting.

"Not bad, but you didn't hit your target." He took a bite out of his sandwich, as one of his fingers pointed to a post 50 yards away from him. "You still have your work cut out for you."

"I'll hit that target in no time," his gray eyes became focused again, as he loaded another arrow.

"Whatever you say, kid," as he downed another bite of his chicken salad sandwich. "So what brought you to this podunk town?"

"It's complicated," his voice strained. "In a nutshell, my parents died in car accident and I ended up with an abusive stepbrother in the end." He watched the arrow go above the makeshift target, "But then, they found my grandma out here, and so here I am."

Buck nodded his head as he listened intently. "Do I sense a hint of regret?"

Clint stiffened slightly, as he again reloaded another arrow, "What do you mean?" He tried to conceal his feelings from his voice.

"I sometimes pass by Casey's, and I see you standing in the phone booth." He raised his eyebrow, expecting an answer that he has heard many times before from his previous apprentices, and Clint was on track.

"Your podunk town doesn't have great cell service," as he watched his arrow slice the air above the target again.

"Just say it, kid." He crossed his arms, "Who are you trying to fool?" He watched his pupil's reaction, as his body tensed under the pressure.

"Okay you're _right_…happy." His head turned away when his fingers released another arrow, and soon enough, a thunk was heard on the post.

Buck raised a hand underneath his chin and his face held a fleeting, smug look. "It took you long enough."

Clint came over and sat on the bench. His gray eyes focused on the beam and he couldn't believe it still. He finally reached the target, even though it was lodged in the upper corner.

The senior marksman patted him on the back, "You just have to let go sometimes."

…

She went back to the scene of the crime. The hill looked different in the daylight, as the shrubberies were hues of beiges and greens. She found the fallen log that they had countlessly sat upon before. Its bark weathered by the changing seasons, and there was a threat of kudzu encroaching at the base of it. Her emerald eyes' gaze landed on dried, copper stained, gauze sticking out from the invasive plant species.

Since the day he left, she he wondered how he was doing. Several days ago, she sat in front of her computer and tried emailing him but was shocked to see the message. _Account deactivated_. The only lifeline left to him was his cell number, but all her messages bounced right back due to a full inbox.

She lingered at their hiding spot, as she watched the sun dip lower into the horizon line. Shadows warped as the little bit of yellow clung to the tree line before nightfall set in. By then, crickets and cicadas started to sing their evening lullabies, as they waiting for Selene's grand entrance to the night sky.

A twig snap brought out of her memories, "I heard."

She swung her head around, "Hi Steve," she forced a smile.

"Want to talk?" He stood by the fallen log, as he was afraid to cross over the sacred territory.

"Not really," she sighed as she listened to the cicadas. "Have you heard from him?"

"Nope." Steve dug his hands into pockets, wondering what words he should say next. It was a minefield when it came to Natasha. He didn't know why it was hard to speak to her. "The guys will be out at the movies tonight. Want to come?"

"No, but thanks though," her green eyes remained focus on the ever changing canvas.

"Alright then, let us know if you need anything." He turned on his heels and started down the low-grade hill.

"Will do," she called back to him.

As Steve came down, the group descended on him, wondering how long their friend was going to act this way.

"Well?" Tony came from behind him.

"She doesn't want to come tonight," he held up his arms in defeat.

"Way to go…oh fearless leader," Tony snorted.

"I don't think you could've done any better," he crossed his arms.

"I think point break over there and I could've hauled her down, and put some sense into her," he snapped his fingers.

Thor turned around to face his tennis partner. "We should just leave her alone," his voice was low and deep.

"So what did I miss?" Another voice came from behind them, as Bruce walked up to them slightly out of breath.

"What's wrong with you?" Steve looked at him with a worried look that his friend was going into an asthma attack.

"Car troubles…the battery died."

"So no ride then?" Tony saw the whole night being wasted right before his eyes.

"Yup," Bruce quipped back as he calmed his breathing down. "Where's Natasha?"

Everyone pointed up the hill. "Oh…that's a problem."

"No kidding, doc," Tony paced back and forth, trying to devise another plan.

"No use standing around here all night, we might as well walk to the movies." Steve held his shoulders in defeat.

"Well Cap… I will do the next intervention. Yours was….wait for it…an ultimate _fail!_"

"Game on, Stark."

…

Nat finally got up from her seat, as she heard the boys head off to their little shindig. She just wanted to be alone at this time to gather her thoughts. She always had been a private person, and even Clint knew when not to step over her boundaries.

She walked quietly back to her home. Across the street, the former Barton household was an empty shell. By now, small dandelions popped up on the lawn and there was even a sale sign posted. Change was coming.

She peeked through the front windows and the coast was clear. Her parents weren't home. The door closed behind her with a click, and she quickly clamored up the steps to her room. The evening air filled her room with humidity, as she went over to close her window, pulling the blue curtains aside.

At that moment, her cell phone rang off, breaking up the silence.

"Hello…" her voice quaked. "Hello…" On the other end, she could hear breathing. She pressed the device closer to her ear. She stayed on the line for a while, just taking in the periodic breathing. "Clint," she paused. "If it's you…be safe."

Her words lingered for a while, as Clint held a firm death grip on the receiver. It was good to hear her voice. He needed it. No matter what Buck said, he couldn't let her go. There was a special bond that distance couldn't break.

By then, a summer torrent began to fall. The ground quickly absorbed the much-needed water. He stood in the comfort of the booth, listening to her breath along with raindrops that concealed his tears before the line was terminated.

_To continue your call, please add 25 cents…_

…

**A/N: How was that? Hopefully not too much fluff. Thank you for the reviews. Also, thank you to those who have put this story on their favorite lists or story alerts! I was a little nervous at posting the first chapter, but you all put my worries aside. Enough said, I just saw a preview for _The Bourne Legacy_, and I know what movie I'll be seeing in August. Alright, you know the drill. Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

"How is she doing?"

"Being stubborn as usual," he snorted.

"That's Tasha for you," the strawberry blonde sipped on her smoothie. "I'm guessing your plan didn't work either."

"Go ahead, rub it in," he started to fidget with the napkin dispenser.

"Mr. Physics finally fails at something," she poked him in the shoulder. "How does it feel?"

"It sucks."

Pepper was enjoying her boyfriend's mood right now. Seldom does the self-proclaimed genius fail.

"Yuck it up," he shook his head in disbelief. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the rest of the gang congregate by the front end of the diner. He could have sworn Steve flashed a grin.

"Hi guys," Pepper called out to them, and the table filled out with extra seats. "I'm guessing we're all talking about Tasha." She watched her boyfriend's reaction, as he sunk lower in the seat, feeling trapped by Bruce and Steve sitting across from him.

"Alright Cap…I'm not conceding yet. Not by a long shot."

"Keep dreaming, Stark." Steve was waiting for their cat and mouse game to finally end one of these days.

A basket of mozzarella sticks and French fries deterred the conversation.

"I like my first point," as Thor took a bite from his third mozzarella stick, "we should just leave her alone for the time being." He took another bite out of the cheese stick, "It's the same way with Jane and me. When she gets mad, I let her be."

"I think it has been ongoing for too long," Bruce chimed in, as he was trying to analyze the team dynamics. "Operation Heartbroken is a bust."

Pepper looked around the group, as she needed to give a female's point of view, "I think you guys are trying too hard." The group stared at her, "I think that's part of the reason she's not wanting to do anything."

"And how would you know," Tony lifted an eyebrow at her.

'It's just a hunch." She looked at his tennis partner, "Thor has the right idea from the start."

Bruce grabbed one of the last French fries, "it seems logical." As he chewed, "remind me not to find a girlfriend ever."

"And why is that?" Thor looked up from his basket of potato skins after seeing a customer order one.

"I like solitude…never know when my temper will flare."

"Hn."

The group became silent as they pondered their next step. They could feel it was different without Clint and Natasha in their gatherings. The dynamics were off, but they couldn't stop it from happening.

"The team is breaking apart," Steve looked up from his glass of water.

Tony narrowed his eyes at the near thought of that remark. The teenagers didn't want to believe that their lives were changing, but then here they are, at the very brink of it. Six more months of a hellhole they wanted to escape so badly, but now what? There were endless possibilities, but which ones to chose from? It was a decision that each one had to make sooner than later.

Pepper nodded in agreement, as she squeezed Tony's hand. He cleared his throat, "I'll give that one to you, Cap."

...

She ran against an invisible line, as she felt her body lurch forward in the air. The quick run was enough momentum to make her twist, as she landed back on the carpet with a leg extended outward. She repeated the routine countless of times, making tweaks until she was assured there weren't any flaws.

She had an affinity for contortions at a young age, and her parents enrolled her in gymnastics. And when it came to her somewhat rebellious years, she took up kickboxing and wushu much to her mother's protests, while her father cheered her on. Clint chuckled at the near thought that she could kick his butt if they sparred. He found out the hard way in gym class one day, when they were paired for a demonstration for self-defense.

He didn't know she had the upper hand in a particular skill set for back flips and strikes. Tony and Bruce were there to see their man go down with a thud on the blue mat. Bruce cringed as he heard the wind being knocked out from Clint's body, while Tony stood confounded at the sight of the petite redhead momentarily knocking out one of his friends.

Her green eyes flashed a glint of surprise, as Clint wheezed below her. For a few seconds, they stared at one another. She whispered something into his ear, "That's payback for my skirt."

"I was going easy," he choked.

"I'm no lady."

He let out a small chuckle and slowly got back up on his feet. At that moment, the male population knew not to mess with Natasha Romanoff.

…

She practiced one more routine before her cell phone rang off in the gymnasium. By the sound of the ringtone, it was from home. She couldn't be late for Thanksgiving dinner now. Her family knew she became distant and cold as the months past, and the only trigger they linked it to was Barton, the next-door neighbor.

The trek home wasn't bad, as she watched the first snowfall. Her boots crunched in the pristine white, as she zipped up her black leather jacket up to her neckline. Occasionally, her long red hair slipped in front of her as she adjusted her gym bag. Again her mind, drifted back to Clint. The electronic silence was killing her little by little with every passing day.

She finally stood at the front steps of her home, and temporarily paused by the front window. Inside, she could see the table spread laid out with a grand turkey and the trimmings. She remembered how she sat up at night, watching her father baste the bird and then by morning, the living room was filled with a mixture of spices and salt. Her gaze then turned towards the source of a loud laugh from her grandfather, who was sitting by the fireplace and smoking away on a pipe. At the hefty age of 88, he was telling his war stories to her young cousins.

Even though, she told herself she wouldn't do it again and again, she had to. Her gaze landed back on Clint's home. By now, a new family was there. She could see a light coming from the dining room, and supposed a similar scene was happening there.

_He's not coming back_. _Stop it, Tash. Just stop._

Her hand lingered on the warm doorknob and she inhaled a deep breath. She hated the holidays, and one reason being it was the start to Clint's troubles. It was a random text she got in the middle of the night, on the eve of her parent's Thanksgiving party three years ago.

_She quickly grabbed her coat and followed Clint's instructions. It was the first time that they were on the hill. It was now their hiding place._

_"What's wrong?" She saw him tremble, while clutching his phone._

_"They're dead…" His voice numbed, but he didn't shed a tear. "They're dead…" He continued to shiver in his black sweater and jeans. In the shear panic and dread, he forgot to grab his coat._

_"Who?" Worry set in on her face. "Who Clint?"_

_"My parents."_

_She leaned closer to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I'm so sorry." She could feel him shake underneath her arms. "I'm sorry." She could feel her own trail of wetness trickle down her face._

…

Barren fields of dried husks were all that remained of the poor yield for farmers this season. Clint watched several geese make a landing in a cornfield, as they took refuge in the impending storm. In the distance, a muted, silver washed over the rolling hills. And in the back of his mind, he felt a heavy weight reawaken in his chest. A memory he kept close to him.

_Earlier in the day, Barney and him were roughhousing. It was just an ordinary day, as usual before his wrestling competition._

_"I can't believe you let that Romanoff girl beat you," he snickered._

_"Shut up, Barney." He gritted his teeth, as his stepbrother pounced on him again, "You should be focusing on your meet."_

_"Yeah, yeah." He flipped him on his back. "You like her, don't you?"_

_"No I don't."_

_"I don't believe it." He continued his headlock on him, "What happens if I kissed her?"_

_Clint dug his hands into the carpet and managed to snake his way out, "You wouldn't. That's just gross." He watched his older half-sibling shrug his shoulders. He could feel every muscle fiber twitch in reaction, as he lunged at him with all of weight, knocking both of them back to the carpet._

_"Enough you two," their mother snapped at them. "We're going to be late." The boys listened to the authoritative voice and quickly got up. "Clint, don't you have a final to study for? I don't need another angry phone call from Ms. Mack that you're failing literature."_

_"Yes, Mom." As he watched his mother leave to for the garage, he saw Barney gyrate his hips before he too disappeared around the corner._

_For the rest of the day, he couldn't even concentrate reading The Grapes of Wrath. Did anyone else think of Tash that way? Now he was beginning to worry. He never did see her that way. She was just a close friend. A girl he happened to meet during their freshman year by accident. And somewhere in between the lines of the Dust Bowl, Route 66, and jalopies, he managed to fall asleep until the one phone call that started his endless nightmare._

_Since then, Barney battled addiction to painkillers for his back injury from the accident. His wrestling career was stolen away from him. He was always making an excuse, which led to a tower of lies and the eventual beatings that he tried to desperately hide until one day Tash found out when she kneed him on his back._

_She ran after him into the boy's locker room. "What the fuck is this?" She eyed the purple bruise over his left scapula, as he stripped away his t-shirt. "What happened?"_

_"It's nothing."_

_"It's not nothing," her tone raised against him. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. "Don't tell me you ran into a pole either," she spat out._

_"I need you to keep your mouth shut," his gaze was strong and defiant. He stared her down._

_"Clint…it's not right." She tried holding his arm and he pulled back. "You can't do this alone."_

_"I'm doing this my way." He cornered her against the lockers with both of his hands slamming against the metal, and entrapping her in his gaze. "I need you to do this for me."_

_She could feel the fear grow in the pit of her stomach and she knew she was trapped. "If it gets too far, I'm going to bail you out."_

_He could feel her breath roll against his cheek, as she continued to look at him. Without thinking, he moved in closer to her and roughly kissed her. Her eyes looked back up in shock, but slowly she yielded to him, as their tongues fought one another. At that moment, they knew they both needed each other._

Buck packed away a few crates of costumes, as he glanced over his young apprentice, who was daydreaming. "You might as well go home, Barton. There's nothing left for us to do here."

"My grandmother is coming to pick me up." The young teen helped his mentor, as his thoughts lingered on the more pressing issue, as he saw the crates beginning to line up, "Where will you go next?"

"It's the circus…we're traveling nomads." He winked. "I figure some place where it's warmer."

"Snow-birding, huh?"

"Exactly."

"You've done good, kid." He dug around a pile of boxes until he pulled one of them out, "I know, it's early, but you never know." Clint eyed the gift. His fingers ran against the light graphite. "They say it's top of the line."

"Thanks, Buck."

"Don't mention it. Everyone chipped in actually." He started to wheeze and hacked something into his handkerchief. A spot of blood was smeared against the pale white.

"You alright?" His gray eyes looked wearily at him, as he watched the older man quickly stuff the fabric back into his vest.

"It's the chewing tobacco," he drawled. "It'll be the death of me." He continued to work through his coughing fit. "I think I hear the dinner bell. Might as well enjoy our Thanksgiving dinner together."

"Sounds good."

At the dinner table, for once he felt he was at home, and even his grandmother came to join in on the festivities. It's strange how life can connect so many people in one place, and yet, how quickly it can take things away without warning or without reason.

"Buck is sure a character," her grandmother talked from the driver's seat, as they made their way through the flurries. "I got word from home that Barney is finally getting treatment for his addiction."

"That's good to hear," he relaxed slightly in the passenger seat, as he continued to watch the snowfall. "Grannie, do you miss them?"

"Of course, I do. There's not a day that goes by that I see more of your father in ya." She continued to focus on the slick roads, "It's just an awful shame from one mistake. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time." She pursed her lips, as she shifted the gears. "Barney promises he will do his best."

"Hn…we'll see," Clint muttered as he watched his breath frost against the window.

"And speaking of more surprises, I know you have been griping about the cell service." She watched her grandson's reaction, "I finally got the house wired for Internet. I mean it might not be the fastest speed, but we finally got it." She tapped him on the knee, "And who said you couldn't teach old dogs new tricks," she winked at him.

…

She could see a steady snowfall through her blue curtains, as she waited for her computer to come back to life. Earlier in the day, the blue screen of death was stretched across the monitor.

As she waited, her hand drifted over to the dark pink rose that Clint gave her before he left. She had pressed the flower against several books and had it now cradled in a clear vase. The gray ribbon was beginning to unravel from the stem. She pulled the fragile thread away and her eyes were shocked to see his chicken scratch on the back of it.

…

**A/N: I wonder what Clint wrote on that ribbon? Thanks for the reviews, story alerts, and faves! Please keep them coming. And on a side note, I hope the rumors of Natasha and Bucky aren't true, but then again, the triangle could become a square or more. (Note: I'm showing my age - Dawson's Creek reference here.)**


	4. Chapter 4

The lights flickered in and out, as the snowstorm continued to rage outside. He wandered around the house aimlessly, trying to pass the time. He wished he had gone to town with Gran, but decided to stay put. He sat by the fireplace and watched the flames tease the stones, as they lashed about from the cold air that roared from the chimney.

Somewhere down the hall, he heard one of the cats meow in protest of their confinement. They too were bored, as they were trapped like him. He hated the orange tabby the most, since the domestic short hair hissed at him whenever he stepped across its territory. Gran insisted keeping him, since he was a good mouser. But, he believed the feline had an ulterior motive especially after having a near misstep one day while returning to his room with a basket full of laundry. Since then, the two started their mind games with each other.

He let out a sigh, as he nestled in the recliner and watched the flames again. He already had gone through the books that Gran had collected over the years. The lights finally went out, and he could feel the chill creeping in his bones.

_Just great._

He could already here his Gran's voice in his head. _If ever the power goes out, the circuit breaker is in the back_. He rather preferred to stay put close to the fire, but he had no choice. The 100-year-old house wouldn't last through the night with frozen pipes.

The floorboards creaked under his weight, as he went over them with his boots. It's amazing how this house was passed down from one generation to the next, and how it withstood the summer downpours to the blizzards…courtesy of the great Midwest.

Outside, the white flakes felt more like needles as a sharp wind came from the north. He found the rusty box and forcefully opened the door. The color from his fingers started to drain, as he punched buttons. One by one, the rooms light up. He wondered how many more times he would have to repeat this routine before the day was done. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tuft of orange hair over by the window.

Clint stared down the orange feline, as it arched its back, basking in the warmth of the toasty room.

_Lucky bastard._

…

He padded up to his room, as the wind continued to torment the side of the ancient house. Again, the orange tabby waited for him at the top of the stairs. His green eyes gleamed with mischief, as he thought about his next plan for Barton.

"I can easily put you out in the cold," as he started to strip away his clothes and tossed it at the orange fuzz ball. The cat meowed in protest, as the frigid fabric brushed against him and zipped back down the stairs to the confines of the kitchen.

Seeing that the power was holding steady for now, he decided to take a gamble and warm himself in the shower. The warm mist coalesced against the mirror and he could feel the chill seep away from his body. His arms were still taut from his shooting practices, as he leaned against the shower stall. His thoughts ruminated back to Barney, and how he had coughed up blood. By now, his circus pals were probably somewhere in the southern United States, enjoying the warmer temperature, while he was stuck in an icebox now. The good old Midwest never fails to deliver extreme weather patterns.

"Hello?" A feminine voice called out from his room. "Is anyone there?"

For a moment, he believed it was a figment of his imagination, but the voice persevered. He ignored the thought, and continued to let the spray warm his back.

"Hello!"

And that was when he realized there was something coming from his computer. He quickly ducked out and nearly slipped on a puddle of water before sneaking towards his closet, being thankful he was out of anyone's prying eyes or so he thought. He didn't look towards his computer screen as he ran for cover.

"Hello, is anyone there?" The voice continued on, as its pitch became increasingly annoyed.

Clint quickly grabbed a sweater and jeans, and threw them on in haste. "I'm coming," he shouted from the closet, hopefully it was loud enough to be captured on the computer. He could've sworn that he had shut his computer off earlier in the day, but the power surge must've turned it back on.

He paused for a moment and got himself ready for the conversation he had been waiting for these past several months. He strolled in front of the computer's screen and on it, Natasha was sitting at her desk, looking annoyed more than anything with a slight blush on her cheeks after seeing her friend streak across his room.

"It took you long enough."

"Speak for yourself," as she leaned back in her chair. "You should've told me about your hidden message."

"You would've figured it out."

"Way to be subtle, Barton." She let out a sigh, "How are you doing?"

"Meh. I'm back in Waverly, Iowa."

"You look different," she leaned in closer to the screen, as she looked upon her friend, trying to push out the image of him streaking earlier. "But, in a good way."

He chuckled, "And so do you."

The two locked on each other through their cameras, as they wanted to say more, but were afraid to.

"Do you think you'll come back here?" Her eyes filled with curiosity.

"Maybe…I don't know." He leaned into the back of his chair.

"Just curious, since the holidays are coming up," she bit the bottom part of her lip. "My parents and I will be going on our mission trip soon."

"Oh really, where at?"

"Somewhere in South America…I think," her brows narrowed at the thought of it. "They're still working on the details, and since winter vacation is starting up, it would be the perfect opportunity."

Clint heard a meow come from behind him, and ignored it. "So how is everyone back home?"

Natasha reached over to her cell phone and saw a text from Tony. "Speaking of the devil, it's Tony," she smiled. "They've been worried about both of us to be honest." She quickly typed a message back and stashed her cell phone away in a drawer.

"Tell them not to," he reached over to grab a towel.

"Will do."

The lights flickered on and off again, "Hey, Nat. We might be losing connection soon…" The image on his computer was fading in and out, but the Internet signal was still strong.

"Is it snowing that bad out there?" She wanted him to stay on their conversation as long as possible.

"Yeah, it's turning into a bad ice storm."

She nodded in return, as some of her red curls fell onto her shoulder. "Clint, there is something I need to tell you."

"And what is that?" as he felt a cat brush against his legs. He quickly withdrew from the fur ball and nudged it aside with his foot.

"I…"

The signal faded and the conversation came to a halt. He looked down at the floor, and saw the orange tabby batting at several of the black cords that he initially clipped to the table.

"That's it," as he reached down to grab the culprit before another hiss came his way. "Way to ruin the mood."

…

Her computer screen went blank on her, and she tried to re-connect with him, but was met with constant denials.

_Username not logged in_.

Her eyes fell upon the dark pink rose, as it was still cradled on her desk. How could a simple gift hold the most important clue, and how did she miss it? She leaned back in the chair as she contemplated at the thought. All this time she held the key, and she was about to say her response before the conversation abruptly disconnected.

The buzz coming from her drawer brought her out of her thoughts, as somewhere downstairs she could hear both of her parents in the kitchen discussing possible locations to set up their mobile clinics.

She looked at the message from Stark. She felt relieved that the gang didn't bother her for at least a couple of weeks now, and she was slowly getting back to her normal self.

_A little birdie told me you're going to leave the country soon._ In seconds another message came to her phone. _And you didn't bother to tell any of us._

In her quick response, she quickly swiped over the screen.

_That's unacceptable_.

Before she could put in a rebuttable, Stark already made his move. _Hopefully you picked out a nice outfit for the winter dance_…

Her eyebrows were knitted tight again, and she muttered to herself as she swiped, "You know I don't like dances."

_I know…that is the point. _

She hid her cell phone away again, hopefully keeping it out of earshot, as she knew Stark would try to send more texts throughout the day. This was something she wasn't expecting, as she had other things to dwell on like her impending trip to South America.

"Natalia," her mother's voice came from the doorway, "which do you think sounds better Costa Rica or Brazil? Your father and I aren't making any headway in picking out a spot."

"Do I have to make a decision now?"

"No, not really, but we do need one soon if we want to lock in our ticket prices."

"Geesh, thanks for the fair warning," as she swiveled in her chair, away from her mother.

"No pressure."

"Fine then…how about Brazil?"

"Sounds good then." Her mother turned on her heels, "And by the way, Tony called on the main line. He says that Pepper will be taking you out to the mall to hunt for a dress."

"When did he call?"

"Oh a few hours ago, while you were at the gym practicing as usual."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. At that moment, she made a mental note that if Tony was ever matched with her in gym class, she was going to take him down before their senior year was over.

"I think it sounds like a wonderful idea, if you ask me," her mother winked at her as she returned downstairs. "You need to go out and have some fun like a normal teenager."

…

"How about this one?" She held up a simple black cocktail dress that was knee-length with spaghetti straps.

Pepper looked in her direction, "I'm sorry, Nat, but we're not going to a funeral."

"I think it's a wise investment…that way I can wear it more than once."

The strawberry blonde walked over to the next rack of dresses, "Honestly, you are a hard person to shop for."

"No, I'm not," as her hands swept through a rack full of pastels. "I just don't like playing dress-up."

"Well, at least there are three other major department stores in this mall."

"Thanks for your vote of confidence."

Her hands continue to push the mounds of hangers aside as she looked at the various styles from a-lines to halters, and it was mind-boggling to choose from them. She quickly came across a pink dress, and pushed it aside without a second thought to it.

Pepper noticed that and smiled. "At least you know not to choose pink," she winked. "There is still some hope left."

"Funny."

The two teenagers continued their banter, as they trudged on through the endless racks of gowns until Natasha found a particular one that was hidden in the back. She pulled out the dark emerald green dress with a full-length cascading skirt. It had a low cut neckline and an open back, where the straps crisscrossed. On the front, cubic zirconia accents arranged in a floral pattern twisted about on the empire waist.

"Wow," Pepper whispered. "That's beautiful."

"I know," she stood in awe as she twisted the chiffon in the air.

"Ms. Romanoff, I believe you found your dress."

"I think so too." She forced a smile, as she watched Pepper pick out her own dress for the formal. Inwardly, she knew that everyone else would be paired with their significant other, while she would stand in the background.

"We need to pick out shoes now," the strawberry blonde grabbed her hand and dragged her to their next shopping experience.

…

After being barricaded inside for the past eight hours, Mother Nature finally released her hold on the small town. Outside, the fresh powder had a thin glaze of ice. Clint navigated the slippery landscape as he tried to clear the driveway before Gran would come home.

He chipped away at the ice slowly, and before long half the driveway was cleared. Nearby, a red-tailed hawk made its perch on a wooden post and eyed the window where the orange tabby was sitting. Instantly, the feline bristled in reaction, since he didn't want to end up being someone's dinner for the night.

Right then, a vibration came from his breast pocket and he pulled out his cell phone. On it, there was a signal to say the least.

"My god, Barton, you're one hard person to get a hold of."

Instantly he knew the voice, "What do you want, Stark?"

"I have a proposition for you."

…

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Thank you for the reviews, faves, and story alerts. I truly appreciate it. To those who had questions about the dark pink rose, the color symbolizes appreciation and gratitude. Until next time…**


	5. Chapter 5

"What's that smug look on your face?"

"What look?" He quipped back, as he flipped through a magazine, ignoring his current task at hand.

"You're plotting something."

"No, I'm not."

Pepper bit the lower part of her lip, "Spill."

"There's nothing else." He tossed his magazine aside and dove back into his homework, "I just wanted you to help Tasha get a dress."

"Tony… " Her voice raised in pitch. It was the voice that she used when he was about to get into some trouble. "That was two weeks ago."

"Honestly, I can't concentrate on my homework."

"When did you ever start your homework on time?" Her eyes were glued on him. "You're not telling me something."

"It's for me to know, and for _all of you_ to find out."

She leaned into the back of her chair, and there was a subtle hint that she caught. "Well don't get too close to the sun, otherwise your wings might melt."

"Funny." He pretended to read, "You're just jealous."

"Me…jealous?"

"Yup."

"About what?"

"Oh nothing."

"Anthony Edward Stark…you're driving me nuts!" She rubbed her forehead, as she felt a pins and needles sensation come across her forehead.

"One day, you're going to work for me."

"That'll be the day," she laughed.

"No, seriously." His voice was flat and his face held no emotions.

"Right…you're a hard a person to work with."

"Aren't you going to be late for your accounting class?"

Her eyes narrowed, "Two can play at this game, and there's always the couch."

…

The town receded into a suspended state, as plows tried to make their way through the streets caked with four feet of white powder, hoping to restore the vital lifelines to the outside world. The early snowstorm caught everyone by surprise.

On his calendar, he had circled the big day for when he would hopefully meet up with Nat and the gang, but the outlook looked dismal now. Just like the ominous gray clouds sequestering the sunlight. He saw Tony's plan slowly disintegrate with each passing minute.

"I don't think you'll be able to head to Des Moines anytime soon."

"I don't think so either," he muttered, as he watched Gran make a new pot of coffee.

"We'll be lucky if someone comes by to help us dig out." She sipped on the freshly brewed liquid, "No point, trying to kill ourselves," as she watched her grandson grab a shovel by the door. "What do you think you're going to do?"

"I'm going to try anyhow," as he started to attack the snowdrift that blocked the back door.

"It's no use…that snow is too heavy."

"I'm still going to try."

Little by little, the pure white gave in slowly to his attacks, as the plastic chipped away at the mound. Two hours passed and he was nowhere he wanted to be.

He looked at the vast emptiness, as the wind picked up swirls of the deceptive crystals and carried them across the barren fields. He tossed his shovel in frustration, and stormed back into the comfort of the home.

He noticed that there was some clothes waiting for him by the fireplace, and figured that Gran put them there in the first place.

There was no point and he clamored back to his room.

He started up a videoconference, and dialed for Stark. And in seconds, Tony's face was plastered on his screen.

"Why are you not at the airport?"

"I'm stuck…the roads are impassable."

"That is a problem." He grumbled.

"I won't be able to make it."

"What's the address over there?"

"There's no point, Stark, I can't leave here."

"Never mind," as he reached for anything to write with, "I'm taking your coordinates as we speak."

"Stark…"

"What?"

He swallowed hard, "I don't have a tux yet."

"Be ready in an hour." The connection abruptly ended.

…

The roar of an engine brought him out of his afternoon snooze, and even Gran stopped for a moment and wondered what on earth could cause the ruckus. They both peeked out from the frosted window. The black helicopter still had its blades spinning, as a door opened.

"Oh my, I believe your ride is here," she whispered, still in utter shock. "I don't suppose they can help clear the driveway for me?"

"Bye, Gran." He kissed her on the cheek. "I'll be back soon."

"Go enjoy yourself," she winked at him, "And no funny business."

Clint immediately grabbed his bag and went out through the back door. He climbed over the four-foot embankment and stumbled against the slope.

"Clint Barton?" The late 20's man shouted against the hoar the copter blades.

"Yes."

"I'm Happy, Stark sent me to get you."

"Right." He looked to the flying contraption, "You're not flying that…are you?"

"No, I'm just the chauffer…Phil is flying it." He slapped on a metallic bracelet on his arm.

"What the hell is this?" he pointed to the unknown contraption.

"Stark said you were in need for a tux," as he pulled Clint towards the helicopter, while pushing a button on the device.

Instantly a masculine voice with a British accent sounded off measurements.

"I guess that settles that," Happy laughed. "There will be a tux waiting for you when we land."

Clint looked out the window and watched the home disappear underneath the shelter of the gray clouds. He felt the aircraft lurch higher above the cloud line. Over 1000 miles, and with every passing minute, he was getting closer. Getting closer to see Nat.

"We have Legolas," Happy radioed on his com. "ETA four hours."

…

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Tony nearly jumped out of his seat, "What…geez…" He quickly closed down his laptop, which showed a blinking dot over the Midwest.

"I think someone's been drinking too much caffeine lately."

"I wouldn't get too close to him," Pepper shouted out to warn Steve. "He's contemplating on something."

"I would listen to her if I were you," as he gathered up his materials. "I was just finishing my paper."

"Sure you were," as she glared at him.

"Pick you up at six?"

"Whatever you say, Tony." She called back to them, as she headed out through the cafeteria's doors.

"What did you do now?" Rogers was confused as to what transpired between the two.

"It's nothing."

"When a man says it's nothing, there's always something."

"I'm on Pepper's bad side right now," he shrugged his shoulders. "It's none of your business anyhow."

"Right."

He quickly deflected the conversation away from him, "Who are you going with tonight?"

"I'm going stag."

"Oh really," Tony's eyes sparked with interest. "You could always go with Tasha."

"You and your schemes."

"I'm just saying."

"Ill see you at the dance with the others."

He watched the blond walk away from the cafeteria, and he was beside himself again. That was too close. The weeks of planning were finally coming into view, but he hated the thought that Mother Nature almost threw a wrench in his plans. Never again will he try to play cupid again.

…

"Sir, I have the tuxedo for Mr. Barton laid out in the foyer," the computerized voice spoke through the speakers. "And of note, Happy left a message that they needed an emergency stop in Scranton for an engine malfunction."

"Not what I wanted to hear, JARVIS." Stark moved in and out of his closet, as he tried on numerous ties and slacks. "Remind me what drove me to do this in the first place?"

"I believe it was Ms. Potts, sir." The A.I. believed he was referring to the dance.

His eyes finally settled on two ties...black versus a dull violet.

"I would go with black, sir."

"I was going for that one too, JARVIS." He pulled off the dull violet around his neck, and quickly tied on the black one. He looked at his watch, "Pepper is going to kill me." He grabbed his keys and stormed out of his bedroom.

"Are you forgetting something?"

"Not now, JARVIS, I'm going to be late." He slammed the garage door, and not sooner than a minute, he stormed back in. "Why didn't you warn me?"

"I tried, sir."

"I can't find good help anywhere, can I?" This time, he cradled the delicate package against his arms. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck." The A.I. system went back to its normal routine, and monitored the status of Clint's flight across the US.

"Let me know when he arrives."

"Will do."

Tony hopped into the closest car that was to him. The corvette hummed to life, as he adjusted the headlights and settings before setting off in the night. And before long, his eyes fell upon the familiar driveway leading up to the Potts' residence. He could already feel his heart racing.

He slowed the car down and pulled up to the front door. And before long, he saw his girlfriend walk out from the foyer and stood by the door, watching him. Her arms were cradled in front of her.

"Hi," he whispered. He was blown away from her simple beauty, as her strawberry hair was curled against her shoulders. "This is for you."

Her delicate fingers pulled at the blue ribbon, and the box revealed a white rose intertwined with baby's breath.

"It's gorgeous," she whispered and took the delicate blossom onto her wrist.

"Sorry about earlier."

"No worries…I know you're just trying to help Tasha." She saw him offering his arm and with that, she wrapped her left arm around his. "Let's head to the dance."

…

She could already see the trail of cars make their way to the glass canopy as the final drop off point before the winter formal. She shifted in her seat, as she waited for her turn.

Earlier in the day, there was so much fuss at the Romanoff household, as her parents took the opportune time to take photographs in this rare occasion. Rarely, did they see their only daughter dress up for social events.

From her window, she could see half of her class climb the red stairs. Nowhere in the crowd, did see her friends. The car finally came to a stop as her dad put on the brakes. "Have fun now."

She simply smiled and pushed the passenger side door open. A cold wave swept across her shoulders and pushed aside her red curls. Whispers came to and fro as she continued to walk up the steps. Inside, she could hear the music blaring through the crystal gardens.

At the top of the stairs, she saw the gardens transformed into a winter wonderland. Crystal chandeliers twirling about from the ceiling, as white confetti fell towards the dance floor in sporadic puffs. Again, heads turned to see the redhead with the dark emerald green walk amongst the couples.

"I can't believe that's Natasha," a girl in a mint green dress whispered to her partner.

She continued to ignore the stares, as she pressed forward in the sea of colors until she noticed a familiar face in the crowd.

"May I have this dance?"

She took his hand, "I never thought you would ask."

Steve took her deeper in the crowd, "Some party."

She smiled at him, "So where is everyone else?" Occasionally, she stared several couples down as they passed by them.

"Somewhere here."

"Really," she looked at him.

"Yeah, I think I saw Stark and Pepper by the photographer."

She tried to hide her disappointment with a fake smile, "I think we should find them."

"Mind if I cut in?" Bruce tapped Rogers on his shoulder. "Someone told me you're going to leave the country."

The redhead looked at the science whiz, "I wonder who let the cat out of the bag," and her green eyes focused in on her target. All she could see him smiling back at her.

"How come you didn't tell me?"

"I meant to keep it a secret," as she let go of Rogers' hands and switched her dance partner.

"So much for secrets."

"So true," she smiled back.

The slow tune finally ended and the pair met up with the rest of the group. And in a brief moment, a photographer snapped a group shot of them all there minus one. It was a rarity to see them all in one place. Jane managed to grab a red eye the night before to surprise Thor. Thor embraced her in his arms, as she stood in front of him with a strapless pink gown. Stark and Pepper held hands, and their argument from the morning looked as if never existed. Natasha stood in between Steve and Bruce, as they stood like her knights in shining armor.

She excused herself from the group. Again, heads turned as they watched her disappear from the dance floor with her green dress trailing behind. She escaped to an enclosed water fountain and reveled in the solitude. Every so often, she heard a puff of water arch above her and the oblong form would collide into another fountain.

Footsteps came from behind her, "We tried to bring him home today." Stark's voice echoed about the enclosure. "The last I heard…he was stuck in Pennsylvania."

The red head nodded, as she didn't look at his direction. "Thanks for trying."

"Sorry about it, Tash. We all wanted him here today." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and had his head bowed down.

She heard his footsteps fade in the distance, as she continued to stand there, watching the water flow about in the garden. After a few minutes of pondering, she decided to make her move. She needed a clean break from the group, and she didn't have the heart to tell them the rest of her secret. She would never be coming back.

She grabbed her coat and slowly slipped away into the night, disappearing into the city's crowd. She raised her hand and a taxicab pulled up aside her to take her home.

…

"Sir, Barton is on his way." The AI came to life on his cell phone.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

He closed the metallic device, and Pepper looked at him. "I can't believe it." He quickly ran back to the fountains with Pepper, but he didn't see the familiar red head in sight.

"We need to find Tash." He grabbed her by his hand and went directly to the rest of the group. "Barton is coming. Have you seen Tash?"

"No not really," Bruce took a sip of his punch.

"Same here." Steve sat alongside Bruce, watching couples pass by.

"Damn it, where did she go now?" He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Happy's number. "Happy, we have a problem…she isn't here."

"What? I can't hear you."

"She's not here!" He barked back.

"What is it?" Clint looked towards the chauffer.

"It seems like your lady has left the dance."

He adjusted his cuffs on his gray tuxedo, "I think I might know where she is."

…

Her green eyes adjusted to the darkness as she trudged up the hill. A small blanket of white coated the frozen ground, as she continued to move forward, not caring if it ruined her shoes. Occasionally, she could feel herself slipping against the slope.

Eventually, she reached the top and everything was in plain sight. Above her, naked branches were coated in ice, and they caught pieces of the dim moonlight. She searched for their makeshift bench, and found it hiding beneath the white camouflage.

Underneath the midnight canvas, her eyes searched for answers, but she found none. She watched her breath frost before her eyes and knew it was time to leave. She slowly got up, and before she could realize what had happened, an arrow lodged itself into a hallowed tree, knocking delicate icicles onto the ground.

"What the hell?" She muttered under her breath as she turned to face her assailant.

…

**A/N: Clint's message from his rose is still unanswered, but it will be revealed in due time. Thanks for reading and reviewing. I truly appreciate the feedback and comments. Without them, I can't grow as a writer. Thanks for adding this story to your fave list and author alerts.**

**Now it's time to celebrate my ten years on this site!**


	6. Chapter 6

Her eyes caught the slender form of black graphite slowly marching up the hill, and they then fell upon her friend. Their conversation on the computer didn't do him any justice, as he made his way up on the slippery incline. His body was more lithe and stronger. His blue, gray eyes never left her own orbs.

She shifted on her feet, and felt her joints and muscles being frozen, as they ignored her mind's command. She felt the dark green fabric collect around her legs. "How?" her voice filled with shock and amazement.

He continued to make his way towards her on the December night, ignoring her simple question. He could have sworn he could see a tear pool at the corner of each of her eyes. The realization of the pain and torment he had caused so much. He never meant it. If he could go back and erase the hurt he had caused, he would take it. But, at what price would he be willing to sacrifice? What if he had never spilled his drink on her skirt? What if he had never sparred with her in gym class? Would he be here now?

He could hear the snow crunch underneath his shoes, as he continued to take in her simple beauty. His eyes trailed down her form, and beneath her black coat, he saw a trail of white by her waist, catching the occasional moonlight. The stones gleamed as they outlined the floral pattern.

There were no more words exchanged between the torn pair, as he wrapped his arms around her steady frame. He could feel her shudder in his arms, as they held one another. How he waited for this moment for so long. Just hours ago, the near thought of this happening was slim to none. And now, here they were underneath starry skies. How it should be.

Time for once held still, as the teenagers made up for the lost time. Selene with her half crescent hanging midway in the sky, dimmed her lights and carried on the sadness. Life was unfair to say the least.

"I can't believe you're here," she whispered into his ear, as she felt his arms pull her closer to him.

"Sorry for everything, Nat." He kissed her on her forehead and looked deep beyond her emerald eyes.

"How did you know?"

"Where else would you be?"

A small smile and laugh escaped from her lips, as she always knew Clint had his ways, no matter what the circumstance was.

"There's the Nat that I know."

The pair walked over to their bench and sat on the fallen log like many times before. They drank in the silence and took in the sight. She watched him place his bow beside him and then he glanced towards the night sky.

His eyes honed in on the patterns and drew imaginary lines to connect the dots out of the random chaos. Slowly the patterns emerged and he then caught the mischievous cat. He finally found the twins soon after, nestled above the great hunter and a chariot forging its way across the vast canvas.

"Look over there," he pointed out to two bright stars coming from the constellation.

She leaned into his shoulders as she looked up at midnight sky. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Just look at where my finger is pointing, and have some imagination."

"Hmm," as she adjusted her position. "What are we looking at anyway?"

"Gemini."

"And the purpose is…" She was cut off midsentence, as sparks emanated from a distinct point. She couldn't believe it. She followed one as it crossed into the tree line and vanishing forever from her sight. The meteor shower picked up intensity, as more shooting stars erupted, and by the hour, she counted at least ten of them.

"I see 12."

She poked him in the shoulder, "That's because you see better."

By now, she had nestled in his arms with her back towards him. She stole glances at him, while he remained focused on the natural fireworks up above. He had changed in a short period of time. His eyes were worn beyond the years, as his skin tone held a darker tone while compared to his paleness from before.

"What are you thinking about?" Breaking the quietness between them.

"Nothing really." He still had her cradled in his arms.

"Are you going to see him while you're here?"

"Maybe," he shifted. He didn't want his stepbrother to ruin the moment between them, but he knew in the back of his mind, eventually he had to do it one way or another.

She squeezed his hands, "I'll be here if you need me."

He leaned his chin on top of her head, and drunk in her scent coming from her tamed red curls. In the pale night, her fiery hair took on more of a mundane auburn. Smell of strawberries and mangoes filled his nostrils as it was something he vaguely remembered from their past.

"I'm freezing," she looked up at him, and felt his forehead brush against hers.

"I concur."

She got up from his lap, and Clint already felt her warmth disappearing from his body. He took in the sight of her still, since they were on borrowed time.

"What do you want to do, Hawkeye?"

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me, loud and clear," she punched his arm.

"Well Cinderella, it's not midnight yet. Do you want to go back to the dance?"

She brushed aside his term of endearment, "Do you?" Her emerald eyes caught his steel gray eyes.

"No."

"Then it's settled."

…

She twisted the key into the lock and heard a few clicks before pushing the frozen door aside. The hallway was pitched black except for a small lamp that was on the front desk in the foyer.

"Is it safe to go in?"

"Yes," she whispered just to play on his fears. She slipped off her black coat and laid it on the staircase post.

The hallway was lined with a multitude of boxes with the word, fragile, labeled on a majority of them.

"Some packing."

"My parents are overdoing it at this point. They're for the mobile clinics and for the children's hospital."

He nodded in approval, as she grabbed his hand. Together, they navigated through the labyrinth on the first floor. She could feel his breath run against back of her neck and she felt a shiver run down her spine. Slowly, the pair made it to the family room in the back of the home. The room was small but two couches were there with a small fireplace.

In the corner, a small tree glowed with white lights, and a row of gifts was laid out on the beige carpet.

"I'll be right back. Make yourself at home."

He heard her footsteps disappear back in the maze of boxes, and eventually he heard her scampering upstairs. He wandered about, taking in the scene for its rarity. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught several white berries hanging off a vine.

And not soon enough, Nat was back, holding something behind her back. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing." He spun around and faced her. Her hair caught the firelight, while her green dress came to life. He felt his throat tightening, as she came closer to him.

"This is for you." She held out the small white box.

"I didn't get you anything," he looked at her.

"Don't worry about it…it's nothing fancy."

He gingerly took the box and opened it. He peeled the tissue paper one layer at a time until his blue, gray eyes fell upon the dried petals and stem. The dark pink hue was muted at the edges, but he recognized it was the flower he had given her. The gray ribbon was still wrapped around the stem. He could tell it had been unraveled many times before. He picked at the gray ribbon, and his chicken scratch was still there. In tiny print, he had given her his user id for his SKYPE and off to the side, there was a single word.

_Always._

"Nat, I can't take this."

"Yes, you can." She wrapped his hands around his own, as they stood in front of the fireplace. "And my answer to you is…always."

"I can't this away from you." He picked the ribbon off the stem and tied it to her right wrist.

"Clint…"

"You keep it, Tasha." He kissed her forehead, "it always been yours."

"If you insist."

Seeing that it was an open opportunity, he knew she had let her guard down temporarily, and he pulled out his iPod. His fingers swiped across the screen and found a song that they could dance to. A melody between piano keys and strings started to erupt from the mini device, as he settled it on top of the mantle.

"Clint."

He grabbed her by the waist, as they slowly swayed to the song. Vaguely, she started to pick up on the rhythm as it started to play out in the pitch and tones. The cascades of tempo variations finally revealed the song.

She smiled up at him, as he held her close. It dawned on her that the song was a piano variation of Love Story. He dipped her as she lifted a leg against him. The song transitioned to the strings dominating the bridge, as they continued their dance.

He guided her to the center of the room, as they continued to follow the song. By the end, the piano keys dimmed down. He pulled her closer to him, as he stole a glance towards the white berries above them.

Their lips brushed against each other, as Nat was caught off guard, just like the time back in the locker room. She wrapped her hands around his neck and teased the muscles, increasing the anticipation between the two of them. She looked up at him and saw the want emblazoned in his eyes, as they both knew they had waited for so long. They continued to kiss until they both needed air.

"Merry Christmas," he whispered into her ear.

"The same to you too."

Even though the holiday was another week away, it didn't matter. Both of their deepest desires were answered today, and by the luck of stubborn friends, they were able to meet.

The pair slowly danced to another tune, as Nat laid her head on his shoulder. She could feel his hands slowly move down her backside, ever going further downward.

…

The house was eerily quiet for the early morning, as his eyes honed in on the slow dying embers of the fire. Nat had managed to cocoon herself in his chest. He vaguely remembered tumbling over towards the couch with her, but for the past 24 hours it was a whirlwind for him.

He hated to spoil the moment, as he saw an angel lay in his arms. She looked peaceful as she murmured incoherently in her sleep. He watched her for a few more seconds as she continued on her mini conversation to herself, wondering whom she was talking to in her dreams. Slowly, he slipped away from her, but the couch creaked from the changing weights. He froze in his movements, praying that she wouldn't lash out and pin him to the floor, not that he would mind it. The seconds felt like minutes, but there was no movement coming from her, as she continued her conversation.

He then did the unthinkable, and slipped his hands underneath her petite frame, and cradled her. The green chiffon cascaded down to the floor, as he adjusted her in his arms.

"Clint, don't leave…" she murmured, as she drifted back into her dreamland.

Unsure if it was her for real or not, he carried her lithe form up the stairs and found her room. The familiar hue of robin's eggs still hung at the window he knew so well. He gently laid her on her bed and tucked her in, brushing aside her red curls that obscured her face.

He bent down to kiss her on her lips once again, "Always."

With steady footfalls, he left her in that early winter morning and made his way down the stairs. Without looking back, he slipped out into the cold and walked his way back to Tony's, carrying his bow and arrow around his back.

…

**A/N: The mystery of the ribbon has finally been solved! As for the song, it's titled "Love Story Meets Love Story (Taylor Swift Remix)" by Jon Schmidt.**

**Thanks for reading/reviewing/adding to your fave lists or alerts. I truly appreciate it! You guys are fantastic. **

**As for future chapters, there will be references to canon and some mention of the movie verse. The plot bunnies keep multiplying. **

**Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

The pale olive walls were lined with cracks, as he walked through the narrow corridor. In front of him, a single door stood in his way and he had to buzz himself in. He waited patiently, as he heard the camera's lens zoom in on his face.

"Identify yourself."

"Barton. I'm here to see Barney." The door clicked and he pushed the heavy metal aside.

From the inside, it wasn't as inviting as the outside. The concrete walls heard years of secrets and lies from thieves to sexual predators. Clint took a couple of glances here and there, and followed the security guard to a booth.

From a distance, he could see Barney walking down a corridor, wearing a generic blue uniform. For being sober, he looked liked the Barney that he used to know…before the accident that changed both of their worlds forever.

The clear glass was all that separated the stepbrothers. Clint reached over to the battered phone, as Barney did the same. The two stared at each other, lost in each other's gazes, wondering who would strike up the conversation.

The last time they spoke to each other was with their fists. Clint felt his hand tightened around the phone, as he could hear Barney's breathing.

"What brings you here?"

Clint shifted in his seat, getting used to hearing the ex-wrestler's voice, "I'm in town for a short period." He scratched his forehead, "Gran told me to visit you."

"That old goat?"

"Yes."

"I see she's been stuffing you."

"Hn." If there wasn't that glass window, he would've lunged over the table and smack a punch at him, "And you're a sight for sore eyes."

"You're not as scrawny."

"I didn't come here to start another world war," he grumbled.

"I'm just saying."

"Because of you, we don't have a house to go back to. And I'm stuck in Waverly, Iowa" he growled, as there was a subtle hint of a country drawl at the end of sentence.

The silence was deafening between the two after their mini tirade. Barney was still stubborn as usual, and he could see that his younger stepbrother has grown a backbone and wasn't backing down.

"Because of your stupidity, my life sucks." Clint delivered the final blow, and it knocked Barney in the gut. "If you're not willing to help yourself, I'm done. Game over. You can't fool me."

He reached over and slammed the phone back in its jack, leaving Barney in shock. He couldn't understand why Gran had said that he wanted to change, as he saw today in their conversation. He was still the same old Barney, the bully that wanted to manipulate everyone in his tower of lies.

…

Tony sat in his convertible, and saw the prison gate open with Clint walking back towards him.

As always, he was trying to diffuse the situation, "You look like you could use a drink."

"Hn."

"I'm your chauffeur for the day it seems. I gave Happy the day off after his escapades across the Midwest. I think I gave him a heart attack when I told him he was going to fly halfway across the United States to get you."

"This was pointless."

Tony shifted the car into drive and held his tongue for the better part until they were further away from the isolated prison, "Did you get to see Tasha last night?"

"Yeah, we did meet up eventually. Thanks."

"For what?"

"Being my fairy godmother."

"You have some serious contraptions."

The whiz kid let out a laugh, as he continued to drive along the winding road. The further away they got, the more Clint reverted back to his normal self, and the encounter with Barney was a figment of the past. The two friends sat in silence, as the town came into view.

"How was she after I left?"

"A total bitch," he smiled back. "She sure keeps her emotions in check." He continued to navigate through the small city. "And speaking of which…" His eyes travelled to a small gymnasium.

…

She tied her ruby hair in a tight bun, as she prepped for the morning. The gym had more activity today, as the weather improved over the past few days. She heard couple of girls over by the balance beam, as they tried leaps over a 4-inch platform. The beam resonated with twangs, as a fellow gymnast made a succession of back flips on the deceivingly, simple beam.

She walked over the empty floor and walked across the springs for one last time. She started her normal routine with a running start and planted her hands in front of her, as she gained momentum to complete her twists. Her eyes maintained contact with her surroundings, and soon enough, she caught sight of the blue mat, and twisted herself upright. By the time her feet connected with the mat, there was a slight bounce as she skipped two inches forward. Her face didn't show any emotion, but she was more than annoyed. How many times did she perform this particular sequence and stuck her landing.

The impending move was coming closer to the forefront of her mind. Yesterday, she thought Clint would've figured it out if he had prodded any further. She made another run and twisted at the halfway point. She could feel gravity pull her back to the ground, as she tried to defy it by pushing for one more half twist.

"_Are you sure about this, Ms. Romanoff?" The principal glared down at her file, and took his fountain pen and started signing the papers. "You're one of our greatest assets."_

"_I'm positive, sir." _

"_What's there in Sao Paulo?" His eyes focused on one part of her application. _

"_A new start." _

"_I'm sure you'll be fine in whatever you do." He handed her papers back. "I'll make sure the school down there gets your file." _

"_Thank you, sir." _

_The hallway was empty, as she passed by the slate gray lockers. For four years, she roamed the hallways and knew shortcuts to cut to her classes. And now, here she was all to herself. Everyone ended the day with a mad rush to get to the buses, as winter vacation finally arrived. _

_She reached in the back of her locker, and started to remove the folders she had accumulated earlier in the fall. A few glances revealed random formulas from calculus to photosynthesis, and a few chemistry projects. The papers landed with a thud in the garbage can that she pulled from a janitor's closet. _

"_You're here late." _

_She recognized the voice, but didn't dare turn towards him, as she reached in the depths of her locker, pulling out worthless papers. "What do you want, Rogers?" _

"_I just came from the gym." _

"_Still throwing those punches eh?" _

"_Use it or lose it," he smiled sheepishly. "See you around." _

"_See ya," she called back to him. Her eyes watched him wander through the empty hallway until he passed through another set of doors. _

_She felt her stomach tighten, as it was a close call. So much for the clean break that she wanted, but the naïve blond didn't pick up on anything. And now, she would have to mask her emotions for the next 48 hours and she would be free. The first test would be the dance, and the second test would be Clint. _

She hit the springs with a thud and dug her toes into the soft blue carpet. Several gasps escaped from bystanders and athletes. Her eyes scanned the room and by eerily silence, she caught everyone's attention.

A single clap erupted from the shadows, as her gaze moved towards the unknown source.

"Impressive."

"Clint," she brushed by him as she dug through her bag. "How did you know I was here?"

"Tony."

"Right…where is he by the way?"

"Somewhere here." He leaned against the railings, "Why are you asking?"

"Nothing really."

"How about we go for a round?"

"Right now?" She grabbed a towel from her duffel bag and wiped a few beads of sweat off her forehead.

"Yeah, right now," he started to walk off to an empty mat. "You're not scared now?" He smirked.

"Of course not," she followed in his footsteps.

"And to make it more interesting, loser buys lunch."

A small smirk graced the corner of her lip. "I hope you brought credit with you."

…

His gray eyes honed in on her, as she crouched low to the ground. She was mirroring his own moves, as he circled in front of her. Both of them were trying to calculate each other's moves.

The two continued their slow dance, waiting for the first move from each other. There was a slight distraction coming from the beam, as Clint took off his eyes for one brief instance. Out of nowhere, he felt a collision against his chest, as he was knocked backward. It was just like the first time she sparred with him in gym class.

Immediately, a leg hooked around the front of his neck, as he felt the air rush out of his lungs. He grabbed her ankle and twisted it off from him, as she countered with a flip.

"Not bad at all," as she got on the defense again. "You've been practicing."

"Hn." He pretended to lunge at her, but instead dove in front her with a drop kick and sideswiped her, knocking her to the ground.

"Not so fast," as she gritted her teeth, and grabbed him by the shoulders. They tumbled, and Clint found himself on his back again. Her knees were locked around his neck and she had a death grip on him. "Give up yet," as she increased the joke hold. She looked down at him and saw his face turning red.

"No chance," he muttered and found energy to overtake her once more. This time he flipped both them and he landed on top of her. He watched her emerald eyes flash a sense of disdain and shock, as he out maneuvered her. He had his hands against both of her wrists, as she struggled against him. "I think you owe me lunch."

She scoffed back at him, "You underestimate me way too much, Barton." She felt him lean closer to her, as she could feel his breath across her cheeks. And out of nowhere, she head butted him in the forehead, and climbed her way out underneath from him. She pounced on him with her legs wrapped along his head again.

By now, Clint was seeing stars as he adjusted his focus on the task at hand. He tried prying her grasp around him, but she wouldn't relent. And here he was again, outdone by Natasha as always. He tapped her on her leg.

"Geesh, Tash, why did you do that for?" He rubbed his forehead, as he felt a small welt forming near his brow line.

"You were playing dirty."

"No I wasn't," he sat down on the mat to reorient himself. He still continued to see fuzzy haze in his field of vision. "If it was an archery contest, I would win."

"Sure you would." She sat next to him and tied her hair back. "I have to admit that you are getting better." She watched Clint nursing his wound, "let me see it."

"I'm fine, seriously," he swatted her hands away.

"What do we have here?" Tony strutted across the mat, as he saw the two sitting down. He gazed towards Clint and saw the beads of sweat soaking through his gym clothes. He pointed back to them with a confused look, "You two didn't…"

"Get your head out of the gutter, Stark," Clint shook his head, while Nat remained silent for a few moments.

"Why don't you help a lady over here?" She held out her hand towards the physics whiz. Tony kindly obliged and before he knew it, his body was being flung in the air, as he was flipped onto the mat. "And that's for making me wear that dress."

"I knew it was too good to be true," he coughed. "You better not tell Pepper about this."

She sauntered away from the two as she headed towards the girls' locker room, "And Clint, you owe me lunch."

…

He stole glances at her as she sipped on her chocolate milkshake. For once, things felt like they were falling back into place.

"Want the last French fry?" She held the packet in front of him, as a small peace offering after what she did to him earlier.

"I'm fine," he lied. He wasn't fine in truth. There was so much he wanted to say to her, but how. He didn't want to break the fragile bond between them, and yet, he knew he couldn't hold it off any longer. Deep down, he hoped she felt the same way he was feeling, but that was wishful thinking. He was about to say something, but heard her cell go off.

"I'm coming home now," she spoke into the receiver.

Clint pretended not to eavesdrop, but he did anyway. There was a sense of urgency and secrecy.

"Sorry, I have to leave now."

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah," she smiled back to him. "Thanks for lunch."

"Anytime."

He watched her drive off in her car, as he felt a sense nag deep in his mind. There was something off about her today that he couldn't put his finger on, but he brushed aside that feeling.

He glanced over to her empty seat and saw that she had left her white scarf. He picked up the delicate fabric and folded it. The walk to her home wasn't as bad as he thought for he cut through backyards. Again there was that feeling that he shouldn't shake. There was a shadow following him.

He saw his former house come into view, as the backyard was filled with a clutter of toys scattered about in the snow. He continued to walk further until he saw her house, but something was amiss. His eyes went over to Natasha's windows as the windows stood naked. Where were the blue curtains?

His pace quickened and he bounded across the street until he came across her front door. He punched the doorbell several times, and heard the chimes ring throughout.

An elderly neighbor was clearing his porch from the snow, and called out to him, "The Romanoffs aren't home. You just missed them, son."

He watched the white scarf fall from his pocket, and landed in a heap on the cold porch. "It can't be," he whispered.

…

**A/N: Thanks again for reading/reviewing. I'm tickled pink at the stats with the numbers of fave stories and followers. Leave a review, and please let me know what you think.**

**On a side note, saw _The Bourne Legacy_ today, and I was quite surprised to say the least.**


	8. Chapter 8

_The autumn air was crisp, as she sat underneath the comfort of a maple. Its broad pointed leaves were on fire with a hint of gold splashed in between. Her eyes glazed over the lines as her mind was taken away to another world of myths and legends. Her slender fingers slipped in between the pages. _

_Occasionally, several students passed her way, as she remained content being silent and taking in autumn's simplicity. There was something about transitions that lingered here. Everywhere she looked, there was a mosaic bursting with vitality and fire. And yet, the season carried a hint of promise hidden underneath her colors. The hint of burnt leaves carried in the wind, as she inhaled the scent. If only it would last. _

_A twig snapped from behind, as her eyes were about to wander to the next page. Whoever was ruining her solitude, she felt her anger building up ever so slightly. She always had her emotions in check. No one could tell if she ever had a short fuse or not. _

"_Oh it's you, my bad." _

_She quickly snapped her book shut. "What is it, Barton?" _

"_Nothing." His monotone voice drifted over towards her. _

_She resumed her reading, as he came around to where she sat. A shadow casted across the page that she was reading, "Do you mind?" as her green eyes remained locked on the bolded words. She could feel him still standing over her, as she tried to continue reading her book, but all she could do was read the same sentence for the tenth time. Without thinking, she scooted over in hopes he would leave, but he didn't. Instead, Clint kicked a few of the ruby leaves away from the spot and sat next to her, brushing against her shoulder. _

"_Do you want a death wish?" she raised her eyebrow at him, as she tried to read her book. Not too long ago, her mind fell upon the memory of him losing to her in their sparring match in gym class. _

"_No, but this is my tree."_

"_I don't see your name anywhere," her finger grabbed a corner of the page. "And it's technically not your tree…it belongs to the school." _

"_You got me there," he bluntly stated. _

_And from then on, it was a similar routine he repeated every afternoon during that autumn season after school. Slowly, he chipped away at her layers and found the real Natasha, while others remained in the periphery, wondering how their friendship ever started. But, he could still feel an invisible wall between them. He needed to find a way to break that one final layer. _

…

"_What are you thinking about?" As she felt him close to her, as she wrote in her notebook, scribbling her English assignment down. _

"_Nothing really," he shrugged, as he watched her hair catch a glimmer of sunlight. _

_She poked back at him with the tip of her eraser, "Have any secrets that I should know about?" _

"_I don't know about that," as he jotted some notes down in his chicken scratch. _

"_So what do you want to be when you grow up?" _

"_This is no time for you to go psych on me." He tossed a crumpled piece of paper her way. _

"_I'm just curious," as she dodged the mangled paper. _

_He lifted one of his eyebrows, "And I'm guessing you want to become some famous gymnast or boxer, either way." _

"_Those are just my hobbies," she smiled back with devilish gleam in her eyes. _

"_What else do I not know?" He tossed his notebook aside, "You're not a secret agent working for the government…"_

"_Hell no." She gave a death glare at him. "And stop spinning the conversation back to me." _

"_You started it." _

"_And you did it again." _

_He let out a sigh of frustration and ran his hand through his dirty blond hair. "I don't know honestly. Maybe travel the world once I get out of this pit." He picked up a fallen leaf and teased it in the air. "I tend to be a lone wolf." _

_Natasha was listening intently, as she pretended to jot notes down. "That wasn't that hard, was it?" _

"_No," he hated to admit it that she was right. For one thing, she knew how to strike in the right places and he never allowed it from anyone except for her. She was slowly breaking him down piece-by-piece, and just maybe, it was alright to let her in. For the past several weeks, he was testing his theory and somehow his experiment was falling through the cracks, as he was becoming the test subject. _

_The two were now leaning against the bark, as they both looked up towards the cerulean sky on that autumn afternoon. They both didn't foresee the storm that was brewing in the horizon, as it would test their relationship to the core for a year._

_Today it was a simple afternoon, as if it was any other afternoon. The silence was broken by a camera's shutter and with a quick flash from a few feet away from them. _

"_What are you doing, Pepper?" Natasha quickly bolted from her seat, as she caught flash of strawberry blond hair._

"_Taking random photos for the yearbook," the newly minted yearbook editor shouted. _

_Clint grabbed hold of the fiery redhead before she could kill the strawberry blond. "Easy there, Tash." He let out a small chuckle. "It's just a picture." _

"_It's not just any picture," she let out a soft sigh, trying to understand the potential ramifications. That was her personality… always looking ahead, plotting her moves and avoiding the ones that would be fatal. _

_He squeezed her hand, "You just have to let go and have faith, Tash." He watched her face change before his gray eyes, "Just try." _

…

She felt the seat dip next to her, as she readjusted her head on the makeshift pillow from her backpack.

"Anyone sitting here?" A stick poked at the empty seat.

She wiped the sleep away from her eyes and looked lazily at her watch, her flight was still not here. "Go right ahead," she murmured. In the corner of her peripheral vision, she caught a slender white stick off the side.

"I didn't mean to wake you."

"That's alright, I needed to wake up anyhow." She shifted in her seat and began to talk to the stranger. "My flight has been delayed."

He let out a small laugh, "I'm glad I could be of some service." He picked up his cane and tapped at her foot. "You must be wondering how all this happened."

"Yeah actually, I didn't want to be rude at all."

"I heard worse," he shrugged his shoulders. "I'm Matt by the way."

"Natasha."

His head turned towards the sound of her voice, "That has a nice ring to it."

"I'm sometimes called Natalia especially by my grandparents."

"Interesting…Russian blood eh?"

"Yes."

He tapped his cane on the floor. "Well about this…it just happened to be a freak accident, where I was simply walking on the sidewalk and I struck by flying debris from a two-car accident."

Natasha remained silent during their conversation. "It always seems like that – bad things happen to good people with no reason." Her thoughts drifted back to Clint, as she continued her conversation.

Even though he was blind, he could feel the tension in her words, as he looked her way. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and faced her. With him being blind, he somehow managed to heighten his hearing and sense of smell. "Hope I'm not being too forward, but it sounds like you didn't want to leave."

"You can say that again," she turned her face away and watched the tarmac line with aircraft ready for takeoff. Her green eyes followed one plane that was landing. "I didn't expect to see my best friend come back."

"Ah the plot thickens," the blind teenager leaned into his seat, as he listened intently. "I'm assuming he's your boyfriend."

Natasha thanked her lucky stars that he couldn't see the warmth creeping across her cheeks. She never placed Clint in that context, but others around her knew it was a possibility especially coming from Pepper and Tony. It just took her this long to realize it, and she wasted all that time chasing a daydream that was real. "I never really said goodbye to him."

"Ouch."

"I just didn't want it to get messy."

"Understandable, but you can't leave a guy hanging," he lifted his eyebrows.

"That's from your perspective," she interjected.

"Yeah, but we have feelings too, and they might not show the way you think they might."

Natasha looked over at the brunette teenager as they played a round of twenty-one questions. For him being a year older than her, he somehow was wise beyond his years. Maybe he did have a point, but then again, she wanted that clean break…away from all the angst and drama that has happened in this past year. And with Clint kissing her last night, she didn't want to taint that memory of them together. She wanted at least one happy memory for herself to keep, and to toss aside the times she saw Clint with a bloodied t-shirt or to see his skin marred with bruises.

The overhead intercom rang off with more departures. "Well I have to leave now, it was nice talking to you, Natalia."

"The same to you," she replied back as she watched Matt disappear in the stream of passengers.

And now here she was alone again in the sea of uncertainty. Her parents were somewhere in the terminal waiting for their flight as well. She looked out again from the windows and the conflict in the pit of her stomach was not dying down. How could Clint make such an effect on her for this long?

A familiar ring tone brought her out of her misery, "Where the hell are you?" The voice was scathing on the other hand.

"What?" She clutched her cell phone and couldn't believe what she was hearing, "Terminal three. Gate seven."

"Your canary sang."

The conversation was brief, but she still couldn't believe it. Now her heart was beginning to flutter and she was trapped. There was no place to escape now, unless she would make a run for it. That way he couldn't find her, but that would be the easy way out. She tried it once and it failed.

She looked out in the crowd, and soon enough, she found him running towards the gate. Hell, he looked like crap as if someone kicked the life out of him. A sense of worry was etched across his sharp features, as their eyes connected with one another.

He ran up to her and crumpled to the seat, huffing to catch some air. "Never ever pull that shit on me again."

"I didn't want you to come."

"Bull shit." He tried catching his breath, "You should've told me."

"There were so many times I wanted to yesterday, but I just couldn't."

He noticed that she was staring away from him. "Look at me, Tash."

Slowly she turned to face him. This was the part that she feared the most. His reaction. She never was good at saying goodbyes, but when he left her the first time, it nearly killed her. And she didn't want to go through it again.

His breathing came back to normal. "Remember how I told you not to see me pack that day?"

"Yeah," she murmured.

"I know you cheated."

Her emerald eyes met with his blue, gray eyes.

He watched her facial features as he continued. "You were by your window, looking out." For a brief flicker, he saw her lips twitch at the corners and he knew he struck a nerve.

"How did you know?"

"You and I are both stubborn…we never listen."

She let out a small laugh, as she felt some tears beginning to run down her cheeks. She felt his fingers reach out to them and brushed the liquid away.

"I love you, Nat." He pulled her closer to him and wrapped his arms around her. "Come hell or high water…always."

She couldn't believe what he was saying. She swallowed hard as she felt a knot form at the base of her throat. Her voice was barely above a whisper, "I love you too, Barton." She took in his scent of a deep musk with a hint of vanilla, as she didn't want this feeling to end. It took them this long to acknowledge their feelings. "Always," as she leaned into his chest, not wanting to let go of him. She could feel him resting his chin on the top of her head, as he continued their embrace.

_Calling all passengers…Flight 225 ready to board at gate seven. _

The pair lingered for minutes after the boarding call, wondering what the fates will put them through next. Her hands clung to his black leather jacket, as she didn't want the moment to end, but he knew better. He reached towards her hands and slowly undid her death grip one finger at a time.

"You have to go, Nat." And he bent down to kiss her one last time.

She could taste the salt on his lips until she couldn't breath any longer. "Bye Clint," she whispered into his ear.

He watched her walk to the gate with her carry on luggage until he couldn't see her fiery red hair in the crowd any longer. He reached into his pockets and pulled out her white scarf, and realized he had forgotten to return it to her. He typed a quick text and hoped she still had time to reply.

_Keep it._

…

**A/N: Thanks for reading/reviewing/faves/story alerts! Comments/suggestions would be great. Well I'm going to be on vacation for a while, and heading out to the beach, if the weather cooperates. Until next time…**


	9. Chapter 9

Her jade eyes looked out through the open window, as she stood in the shelter of the doorway. For two straight days, the familiar pings from the tin rooftops never escaped from its occupants. It was an unusual weather pattern to say the least. The locals grew wary at the sound of thunder, wondering if it was another landslide or from the skies above. Already parts of the small village were inundated with the deceptive liquid dirt.

In the distance, several lightning strikes were seen and she slowly counted out the seconds before she could hear the loud boom. She could feel the ground shake lightly beneath her, as the lights above her flickered on and off. Automatically, she started for the supply closet and started to pack up the antibiotics in an event they were forced to move out. The medicines were the vital lifelines for some out here in the middle of nowhere.

"Natasha, I need your help here," her father cried out from one of the surgical suites.

She immediately bounded across the hallway and peeled away the blue tarps that acted as the makeshift walls. The cheap plastic wasn't enough to conceal the cries and screams as a female patient labored. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead and soaked through her clothes. The rain continued its wrath against the tin roof as more cries were drowned out in the torrent.

The smell of copper hit her hard as curly red head walked across the narrow space, as she saw her father at the foot of the bed. Never did she have the urge to vomit up until now. She quenched the feeling as much as she could, as she waited for his instructions. Dull metallic instruments were lined up on the make shift tray, as she felt the room decreasing in size. The humidity was getting to her and she wanted to get the hell out of there as possible.

"Grab that clamp with the gauze on it," he barked as he placed his hands strategically on the distended abdomen. His gaze went towards the translator who didn't fare as well as Natasha did. His skin had turned a ghastly yellow, as if he wanted to pass out. "Tell her to push." Natasha watched the translator's lips quiver at the command, as he grabbed the table to steady his balance.

Her delicate hands reached for the pile of hemostats that were strewn haphazardly on the tray, and she picked up the light instrument and handed it to her father. She watched the stubbornness in his eyes, as he tried to deliver the baby into the world.

"Stubborn," he muttered, as he wiped away the sweat along his forehead. Being under fire from the huge lamplights wasn't the greatest feeling either. If he had worn the true surgical attire with both cap and gown, he would be spiking a temperature by now. He maneuvered his hands as he applied downward pressure on the abdomen. Another sharp cry came from the woman, who now was holding the table for dear life. The knuckles on her hands were turning white.

All Natasha could do was stand there and watch in horror as the events continued to unfold. Yes, she heard that labor was rough and brutal, but everyone reacted differently. She felt queasy in her abdomen, as she felt another urge to vomit her dinner. She could feel the acid erode the back of her throat. She forced herself to think of something more distant. Anything for a distraction to keep her mind focused.

Another wave of intense copper went straight to her nose, as she saw a gush of blood escape close to her father. Never did she see so much blood. In the distance, she could hear him yell for more assistance, and a nurse brushed by the plastic tarp and pulled aside the translator who finally collapsed outside the barrier with a loud thud.

"Grab another gauze stick, Tash." Her father's hand was waiting for the instrument again.

She didn't know how long she waited there or what happened in the next moments. She felt like her soul was floating somewhere else above her, away from the chaos. A sudden rush of air brushed beside her, as the nurse flew with the blue baby to the baby scale.

"Tash, I need you to apply pressure on her abdomen now."

Without thinking and keeping her mind blank, she did what she was told. She looked over towards the mother who was now breathing shallow. Her jade eyes glazed over to the monitors, where it captured a slow heart rhythm.

Her father cursed in Russian, and she knew then it was bad. She never heard him curse that much only for a few exceptions when she knew the situation was dire. These were one of those moments that she wished she wasn't there to witness.

She continued to add pressure as she felt muscles try to react to her massage, but it was useless. Her father pushed the makeshift mayo stand closer to him, as he grabbed more of the gauze and anything that would help stop the bleeding. One by one after they were soaked through, he threw them onto the bloodied ground.

"I wish I had Pit," he muttered, as he wiped away the sweat from his field of vision. "We just couldn't get it in time." He continued to apply pressure to the bleeder, but it was useless. By now the monitor showed a flat line, even though the alarm was broken. Somehow more nurses came in to help him after their return from other outlying villages to deliver medicines and food supplies.

Natasha pulled herself away from the scene, as she watched them perform chest compressions and shock therapies, while administering medications through the IV lines. She wandered over to the baby, where the nurse was cradling it. She was whispering Spanish words to the young babe, as she nurtured it from the gruesome scene. It loud cries going against the chaos that was coming from the other end of the room. At least, one life was saved, while the other hung in the balance.

She let out a sigh of relief for the young life, but again, her attention went to its mother. That queasy sensation returned from the pit of her stomach and this time she couldn't fight it. The acid burned against the back of her esophagus, as she tasted bile rise closer to her tongue.

She ran out of the room and dashed down the hallway until she found one of the exits. She heard the rain was still coming down, but pushed aside the abused door and headed down into the brush. There in tropical foliage, she puked up her guts until she was left with dry heaves. Her stomach ached at the force, as she tried to calm down her fears and anxiety.

On her bare skin, she could feel needles striking at her tender flesh, as the winds carried the moisture into a frenzy. No matter how hard she tried to push back that memory, it would linger in the back of her mind. What did she get herself into? For her quiet afternoon, it turned to be a nightmare and there was no one she could talk to in this early morning unless one particular night owl.

She lazily got up from her spot and headed back to her room, which thankfully was situated on a hilltop about 20 yards from the clinic. She could see the rest of the ancillary staff coming out of the building she was just in moments ago. In the darkness, their heads were held low and so was her father's. She saw his shirt drenched in a dark maroon stain.

In the comfort of her room, a small flame provided light, as she started up her computer that was outfitted with mobile technology courtesy from Tony, after he had learned how she decided to sneak away. Right then, she wished she was back in the main capital where she could board the train or ride a bus to wherever she wanted to and disappear into the crowd. But then again, her thoughts drifted back to her time with the rest of the gang, where everything fell into place. It seemed like another lifetime ago.

Her fingers stretched across the small keyboard as she waited for the Internet signal to be captured. Seeing that it was a two-hour time difference, she hoped that the archer would still be up, and sure enough he was.

"You look like shit," he replied.

The grainy image didn't do enough justice, as there was a lag time between his voice and facial features. "You don't say," she smirked back at him. Besides beating around the push, she went straight to heart of the matter. "I don't want any children," she said blankly. Her jade eyes were devoid of the life and spark.

Clint shifted in his seat at the statement. Worried set in his gray eyes, "Why?"

"I saw a woman die giving birth early this morning." The memory was still fresh, as she could smell metallic all over again. "I just don't think I will after today."

"Nat," he whispered.

"She was in pain, Clint." Her green eyes flashed at him. "She bled to death. She had no one there to talk to…no husband…no family."

He remained silent on the other end, as he continued to listen to her talk until she finally vented out. "Did you tell your Dad about this?"

"No," she murmured. "He's probably more stressed than I am. He never likes losing any patients."

"I think no one does, but it's a gamble that people take." He crossed his arms across his chest.

"This was my first time seeing someone die in front of me, and it just pisses me off." She swatted at a fly that tried to seek refuge from the deluge.

"What do you want me to do about it?" He leaned closer to the screen, sighing in frustration with his hands cupping underneath his chin.

"I don't know…I guess I needed someone to vent to." Her brows tightened in confusion.

"You still need to talk to your Dad, Nat. He's been through this before, and it probably won't be the last one either."

"I just never realized how the game is played," she looked off in the corner of the room. She could feel tears lining at the corners of her eyes, ready to spill over and she didn't want Clint to see them. There was only a few times she was vulnerable and she showed it to him on several occasions especially with his nerve racking texts messages in the middle of the night. "I just hate this feeling…this feeling of hopelessness."

"You're not the only one."

The two remained quiet as they stared at each other on the screens. No matter the distance between them, they always gravitated towards one another. Nat sat in her seat as she listened to the continual torrent against the tin roof. The low drumming sound waxed and waned. Her lips moved but all a sudden the connection was lost, and her screen turned black.

She pushed away from the table and walked over to the open window. In the darkness, the deep foliage glistened with silver at times as they drank in the cool liquid. It seemed as if the heavens were crying with her and she let out a soft sigh out. What started off as an ordinary afternoon turned into a day that she wanted to forget as soon as possible.

…

Clint had a hard time falling asleep that night. He tossed and turned in his bed, but couldn't shake away a feeling he had. After his conversation with Nat, he felt worried for her sake. He never saw her become that unglued.

He grabbed his quiver and padded down the stairs. In the darkness, he could hear scampering of paws against the hardwood floors with some meowing occasionally. The orange tabby was planning for his demise when he accidentally stepped on its tail. A sharp hiss broke up the silence, as Clint continued to make his way to the back door, ignoring the conniving feline.

Outside, the winter air was slowly giving away. He could feel the warmth coming from Nat's white scarf, as he wrapped the fabric around his neck. He clamored down the stone steps and went into the darkness. His vision gave way to the barren fields, which were mere shells of their former glory with dried stalks piercing through the low snow pack.

He fired several arrows and watched them slice through the chilly air underneath the watchful eyes of Perseus and Orion. The arrows landed flawlessly as they pinned several hallow stalks. From where he shot, he saw two rabbits scurry in haste for fear of being hunted down.

His footfalls were heavy against the land, as he made his way to his arrows. He bent down and grabbed the thin shafts. He restrung one again and felt the string give away, slashing at his wrist and forearm. The strike reverberated through his forearm, as he tried to stop the bleeding. Several droplets of ruby landed onto the white surface. This was the first time that his bow rebelled against him. He bit hard on his lip to keep his curses at bay and dropped the useless bow to the ground.

He looked up into the night sky for some clarity hoping to shake away the dread that was forming in the back of his mind. In the distance, Mars skirted along with the constellations in the sea of black.

…

**A/N: Thanks for reading. I did enjoy my vacation and I wish it didn't have to end. Thanks again for your reviews, story alerts, and faves! You know you want to click on the button below. Have a great Labor Day weekend.**


	10. Chapter 10

The lightning god eyed his opponent cautiously, as he continued his gaze ahead, watching any subtle changes in positions. This morning's practice was uncalled for since section finals were coming up in the mere matter of weeks. He didn't like how Tony was pushing his limits. If any one of them got injured, it would spell disaster for the school's team.

"I think you're a moron for doing this," he shouted out to his partner, as he tightened his hold on his racquet.

"I've become rusty."

The blond snorted, "Whatever you say," he barked back. "So be it." He swayed in rhythm as he countered the power serve from Tony, and struck with a force that sent the ball swirling back to the other end of the court.

Tony connected with the ball and felt his hand shake against the force, as he tried to counter it with his backhand.

"You better want to let go if you want your swinging arm," he commanded.

"I'm guessing this is your new technique, " his teeth clenched, as he heard the tennis ball scratching against the synthetic mesh.

The blond smirked and began to watch for his partner's next move. "Give up, yet?"

"Psshst…no," his brown eyes narrowed as he increased his backhand. By the minute he realized what was happening, it was too late. The ball never made it over to the other side of the net. "Incredible," he stood in awe for a moment, as he surveyed the damage to his racquet.

Thor stood on the opposite side with a grin slowly appearing on his light features. "What say you on that one?" He raised his eyebrows.

"Alright not bad," Tony wiped the sweat away from his brow line. "We could use some more of that stuff in our tournaments."

"What's the score now?" Thor was already pushing the buttons.

"Now don't get ahead of yourself, Lightning" he scoffed back. He never liked to lose against anybody, but sure as hell, Thor was creaming him in this match.

His loud laugh boomed against the hallow walls of the new gymnasium. Somehow he had acquired the nickname from an opposing team one day during his freshman year, while playing in a rainstorm. Everyone feared him when he launched his power serve in any game. The sound of the ball connecting with his racquet's mesh had the alluring sound of thunder that made anyone nervous. "We're co-captains anyway," he remarked. "We need to help the junior varsity out."

"No shit," he smiled back. "Let's call it quits."

The two walked off the court together and went to their duffle bags. An alarm sounded off from Stark's.

"What on earth is that?" Thor pointed out with his racquet.

"Oh nothing," Tony tried to find the source of the noise.

"Another science project I presume?" His eyes grew wary at what contraption he was building next.

"Sort of," his response was slow, as he found a device the size of a Blackberry phone. "I'm tracking Nat's whereabouts."

"What?" His voice raised in alarm and depth, "but how?"

"Long story short…"

"Why do I not like the sound of this?" He raised his eyebrows as he wondered what crime his partner committed.

"I managed to break into her locker some time ago, and placed a tracer in her gym bag. You know she takes that bag with her pretty much everywhere." He plopped down on the bench and Thor followed, "And you know how she quietly disappeared from the dance…I had to then play some detective work and found out from Steve what was truly going on."

"I should be very afraid of you now," he chuckled.

"I fired up the tracer and found her in South America," as he punched several buttons on the device, "and I decided to send a care package to her with a computer and mobile Internet access."

"What are you getting at Stark?"

"I think after the tournament and finals are over, we can surprise her."

"Oh no, I think we should let her be."

"I think it's a good plan. Robin Hood has been miserable and he's back in Waverly."

Thor glared back at him. "And yes, he has a tracer too…geez. Cut me some slack, will you?"

"You do realize in your delusions of grandeur that we're penniless students?"

"I know," he muttered, "My dad has offered to pay for the trip."

"What?"

Tony started to pick at his shoelaces, "Yeah…it will be great. It'll be our last hurrah before we all graduate."

"Why do I get a feeling we'll owe you in the grand scheme of things?"

"And why do you have question every move I make?" He took a gulp of the Gatorade in his water bottle, "Let's go tell everyone the news."

"Uh no," he paused. "I'll speak to Rogers, while you track down Bruce. I don't want to be caught in the middle of his experiment."

…

She stretched lazily on the hammock, as another day was casted in the early morning in southern Brazil. This time the setting was different. Her green orbs adjusted to the view as the fog danced with the canopy. It was a far cry from what she has witnessed on her current rotation with her parents. The serenity was enough for her. She watched the sun surface above the low-lying clouds and how it illuminated the fog, sending sunlight scattering about. If a heaven did exist, she wished it was here.

_She remembered coming to this village about a week ago, as she watched the villagers pool at the main entrance with generations of family members waiting for their arrival. Their eyes filled with despair as they longed for medical treatment. The city was just too far for them and the cost was something they couldn't spare. _

_The minute everyone stepped off the bus, it was as if any other village. Children scrambled to grab at any treats they offered, while the elderly waited patiently to be seen. _

_A little girl ran up to her and pulled at her beige short, saying something she didn't understand. "Doce." Her hazel doe eyes looked up at her. _

_She looked over towards the translator, who was being bombarded with other requests. "It means candy in Portuguese."_

_The red head pulled out several sweets wrapped in saran wrap, and offered them to the small hand. _

She took in a couple of more seconds of the scene and pulled out her camera, taking a snapshot of the simple beauty. Maybe there was a reason she had to be here after all, as if someone else was pulling the strings.

She padded over to her makeshift workstation and powered up her mini computer. Already there was one message waiting in her inbox, and lo and behold, it was from her benefactor. "Tony," she muttered, as her eyes narrowed. Before she could even finish reading the message, there was an alert going off the screen and knew it was from the self-proclaimed genius.

"Aren't you the early bird?"

"The same goes for yourself, Stark. You do realize there is only an hour time difference between us."

"Touché."

"Thank you for the computer though, I do admit I have no clue how you found me," she was short and to the point.

"Elementary, my dear, Natasha. I have my ways."

She looked at him with her familiar death glare. "I know you don't have much time to spare. Here's my play…where will you be in three weeks?"

Her brow furrowed at his strange request. "Back at the main hospital in Sao Paulo. Why?"

"Well I was thinking of having a get together in city?"

She felt the hair of the back of her neck stand on the edge, as her nearly perfect plan wasn't so perfect after all. "Are you joking with me, Stark?"

"No joke. I figured since you can't be here for graduation and stuff, might as well have a last hurrah before everyone does ditch."

"You're working too hard."

"That's what Thor said too. Is it that obvious?" He continued on with the banter, as she gave him the second death glare. "Alright then, it's settled. See you in three weeks."

She sat at her desk and bit the lower part of her lip. Anthony Edward Stark was becoming more of a pest than a friend, and she wondered what grand scheme of his that he was trying to conjure this time. In essence, she only has been gone for five months, not that she was really counting. And in those five months, she has been given the opportunity to see things that so few have seen in their lifetimes.

She resumed her schoolwork, as she typed up the last of her essays for lit class. But her thoughts kept going back to Stark's little plan. She'll have to cross that bridge eventually when it comes to that day. For all she knew, he could be pulling a prank to gauge her reaction, and if there was a candid camera somewhere, it would show her being unproductive, as she became flustered at the thought of seeing the boys again especially Clint.

…

"You want me to do what?" Bruce looked up with his goggles, as he jotted notes down on the carbon copy sheets in his lab notebook.

"You heard me," Stark stood by the lab table, as he watched Bruce conduct his own experiment.

"You know I don't like to fly especially in tight places." He took the thermometer and placed it into the boiling, green liquid that was in an Erlenmeyer flask. "How come I'm always the last one to be informed?"

"Alright point taken. Are you in or out?"

"Gah…this is so last minute." He felt his temper flaring.

"Lets see who else is going" as Tony stroked the bottom of his chin, "mostly the guys. Come on, we're taking about South America…Brazil…white water rafting."

"I don't know about your last selling point…" He pointed a clear, acrylic, stirring rod at him as some liquid droplets fell to the linoleum floor. "I prefer terra firma."

"Well?"

"Fine then, I'm in," he let out a sigh as the liquid combusted right as he took out the thermometer. "You owe me another flask," as he watched the genius walk out the door.

"Hn." He peeked his head back in the doorway, "Maybe you should switch to particle physics."

"Tony, you're no help," he muttered as he tossed his notebook aside along with his goggles.

…

"I must say, Howard, your son has quite the circle of friends," Fury picked up a group photo of them in their winter formal minus two of them that he was already tracking.

"I know he does," the elder Stark offered a glass of brandy to his lifetime friend. "I take things are going well so far. You look like you haven't aged for years."

He let out a soft chuckle, "the serum is working and that is all that matters." He decided to flip the conversation, "We're still looking for several items, but maybe we'll hit the jackpot soon. There's a signal somewhere out west…they narrowed it down to the Mojave." He looked towards the industrialist and billionaire, "How's your project by the way?"

"You know how it is…baby steps. The model is almost completed." He took a sip from his glass and stared out the window. "Tell me friend, how bad is this going to be?"

"Time will tell." The ex-CIA agent downed his own drink, as he felt the liquid burn in the back of his throat. "I already have several of my men working in the field."

Stark eyed the liquid, "How about another round?"

"You've read my mind."

…

_Three weeks later…after a dozen finals…and one of the longest tennis matches in the school's history…_

….

Phil waited for a response, as he continuously rang the doorbell. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of cats cluster at the windowsill, giving him dirty looks for disturbing their afternoon naps. He never did like the furry creatures. Again, the troublemaker of the group hissed at him from the window, and Phil ignored the feline's verbal chatter.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere, he clamored to the back and peeked into another window. Again, it was empty minus a trail of cats scampering to where he stood.

"May I help you with something, Phil?"

The older man stepped off from his vantage point after hearing the familiar voice, "Just the person I was looking for," he adjusted his black suit and tie. "Tony has been looking for you."

"He could've called instead."

"He figured you'd ignore him," he smiled back.

"Hn," his gray eyes narrowed. "What does he want _this _time?"

"He wants you to gear up."

"Why?" He dropped down his quiver and a temporary bow he bought from the local hunting store. "I don't have to follow his orders."

"You might want to for this one." He realized the teenager wasn't budging, "Don't be difficult, Barton."

"Give me one good damn reason." He crossed his arms across his chest. "The last time Stark sent me out to Manhattan, I didn't know I was going to say goodbye to my best friend. Let alone have a verbal pissing match with another friend to get the info."

"Very well then," he was going to nip the problem in the bud, "he's taking the boys to see Natasha in Sao Paulo and that includes you." He walked over to where the teen stood, "I suggest you don't keep him waiting. We run a tight ship around here."

Clint growled something underneath his breath as he clamored up the steps. "I hate it when he does this." He rummaged through his drawers and closet, packing hastily and shoving random clothes into his duffle bag along with his passport and driver's license.

He wrote a short note to his Grannie and locked up the house again. The cat entourage was waiting by the windowsill, wondering where their human was running off to now. They all looked in awe at the small plane that managed to land in the empty cornfield.

"Glad you could join us, Barton." Tony looked up from his seat with his sunglasses tipped off at his nose.

"A little more warning next time," he seethed.

"I hope you packed your swimming trunks," he winked.

"Shut up, Stark."

The others were situated in their seats, and he nodded to all of them. For a brief moment, he hovered by Steve's seat, but continued on further without saying a word. He settled into the back of the cabin and tossed his duffle to an open seat. If only he had his bow, he would fire a couple of arrows at Tony's back or even strangle him.

"How long is this flight?" Bruce looked up from his laptop, as he analyzed his lab data.

"About 11 hours or so," Tony muttered.

"Oh boy," as he looked back on his screen. "I should've collected more data."

Clint settled into his seat and pulled out his noise, cancelling headphones. He felt his eyelids grow heavier. _This better be worth it_.

…

**A/N: Thanks again for reading and reviewing, I greatly appreciate it. You might see that the story is starting to head off in a different direction. Until next time, take care everyone.**


	11. Chapter 11

She felt her shoes losing their grip against the muddy ground. Another downpour fell on the village, as she dodged the welcoming needles. By now, she was getting used to the unpredictable weather. The humidity was slowly rising, as her poncho clung to her body. She stuffed another box of supplies in the back of the bus, while the villagers looked on from the safety of their own homes. In the distance, she heard the crack of several large trees tearing down the hillside.

"Better hustle," the translator ran pass by her with his load. "There might be a mudslide somewhere. Let's hope it's not on the main road," his European accent was thick.

Natasha kept her mouth shut and darted back into the temporary clinic to grab the last of their payload. She had marked a box in bold words, and decided to break open it. Inside, orange vials of medicines were still dry. She placed a couple of them out on the table.

"What are you doing? You should be on that bus!" A local volunteer saw her wasting precious time.

"I'm going to leave a couple of these here," she quickly packed up the box again. "You never know when the next crew will come."

"Fine, then," the older woman replied. "But you need to get out now." She shooed Nat out of the clinic, as she watched their temporary visitors board the bus. "Thank you again."

The teenager tucked the small box underneath her poncho and dodged the torrent as best she could. Her feet sunk into the soft earth, as she fought her way through the muddy mess. It seemed like she began her trip with rain and she was going to end it in a similar fashion.

She saw her parents were in the middle of the cabin, and she took an empty seat, two rows away from the back. She placed the small box off to the side and looked at it with empty eyes for a brief moment, as she listened to the rain battering the windows.

The tiny village vanished underneath the mixture of mangroves and deciduous trees. She could barely make out the small children running after the bus, but soon a wave of green took over with jagged and broad leaves she was unfamiliar with. Every so often, the bus lurched over hidden potholes, as it made its way down the mountainous terrain that sent the passengers hitting the sides of their seats or windows.

The rain started to intensify, as she could hear the pings against the metallic roof. Slowly, the sounds lulled her to sleep as her body ignored the bumpy ride.

_The pair sat in silence across from one another, as they occupied one of the smaller tables hidden in the corner. From their vantage point, they could see several students make their way to the counter to order their drug of choice to keep them awake while cramming for exams. The smell of cinnamon entranced her thoughts temporarily, as her hands were wrapped around her cup, soaking in the warmth. _

_She was still angry at him. The images seared into her memory, as violets and blues marred his upper back. She couldn't let it go. Occasionally, she stole glances at him, while he remained somewhere deep in his thoughts as well. His gray eyes were dull, as he stared out into nothingness. His cup of black coffee was untouched, as wisps of the steam rose upward. Neither of them wanted to go where the conversation was heading. _

_In the coffee house, they sat there quietly for the next hour and just listened to the ambience of random chatter and music. She shifted in her seat and leaned in closer, trying to find the right words, but none came to her. Nothing made any sense. She took another sip of the warm liquid, and tasted a bit of spice lingering in the back of her throat. Her eyes never left his, as he looked about the room just to distract himself. _

"_What are you going to do about it?" She finally broke the silence between them, as she played with her empty cup between her hands, taking in the last bit of warmth from it. _

"_I don't know," his shoulders rested against the chair. Every so often, he could feel pains coming from his left side especially as his shoulder protested any movement. _

"_You need to have a plan." _

"_Easier said than done," he mumbled, as he averted his gaze away from her piercing chartreuse eyes. Flashbacks from yesterday still haunted him, as he remembered forcing her against the lockers. He couldn't remember if he had pushed her or not during their argument, but he could faintly see the outlines marring both her upper arms. A tight knot grew in the pit of his stomach, while he replayed the scene over and over in his mind. _

_She noticed a change in his demeanor and noticed that he was staring at her own bruises, "Don't go there Clint." Her eyes flickered with worry for her friend, "They'll go away." Her hands reached out for his, as he continued to fight his emotions. "Like I said before…"_

"_I know what you said," he growled. _

"_Clint," she continued to hold his hands, "Text me then, alright?"_

_He squeezed her hands in response, as he was still petrified from his actions. _

_No more words were said, and the pair rose from their chairs. Outside, everything was quiet as they walked hand in hand._

"_About yesterday…I'm sorry." The words lingered on his tongue, as he tasted the bitterness from them. _

_She whispered back, "Don't be," she leaned upwards to kiss him on his cheek, giving him some absolution. _

_The pair walked silently in the early evening, as the sun dipped further into the horizon line. She could feel his hand in the palm of her own, rubbing ever so gently against her skin. At times, she couldn't concentrate while walking. She looked back up at him, and wondered if he knew what he was doing. He was starting to become himself again. She could've sworn a small smirk appeared at the corner of his lips. _

_They finally made it to the empty park and walked over to the gazebo. Its white posts were decorated with a string of gold lights that snaked its way all around. She could feel her breath getting caught in the back of her throat as she followed him. He took her closer in his arms and stared through her green eyes. _

"_Clint," she whispered as she felt a finger pressed against her lips. _

_He closed the distance between their lips, but before he could kiss her, they were interrupted by the sound of horn honking at them. _

"_Hey you two, I've been looking all over for the both of you," Rogers shouted from his car as he pulled into the empty street. "They won their match!" _

_Clint silently acknowledged the statement and waved him off. He chuckled to himself, "He has impeccable timing." _

_Natasha laughed it off as well, and wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing his head closer to hers. "Where were we again?" _

"Wake up, Natasha!" Her mom scrambled to her side, as she felt another hand come across her cheek.

"Wha-?" Her eyes focused in and out, as she saw her mom clamoring over her. Voices were muffled as she felt coldness around her. The sound of water lapping against the bottom of the seats wasn't reassuring as she slowly regained her surroundings.

"You bumped your head," her mom fawned over her. "We need to get out now."

"Where's Dad?" she rubbed her cheek.

"He's already outside, helping others." She continued to pull her daughter up onto her feet.

"What happened?" she felt the water slowly began to rise against her thighs.

"Another bus stalled and there was a chain reaction from then on. We're all stuck, but then it came out of nowhere."

She trudged through the rising water and made it out of the bus that could've been her tomb. The muddy waters were racing around the stranded buses. She felt a hand reached outwards her, and saw her dad pulling her aside. He quickly flashed a light into her eyes.

"I'm fine," as she swatted his hands away, as she felt a wave of nausea wash over her.

"We need to get to higher ground," as he pointed up the steep hill. "Let's go," as she felt being pulled again, while her head felt it was spinning again.

The group slowly ascended the slippery terrain. The sounds of metal grinding against each other intensified, as they made their trek upwards. In sheer awe, they saw Mother Nature force her way through, as she sent several vehicles down the embankment.

Several members pulled out their transmitters, hoping someone would pick up their signal, as they heard the raging waters down below rapidly rising.

Her senses waned in and out, as she listened to the lulling sounds below. For a brief moment, she watched her father examine another person, as she felt another wave of nausea come about. Slowly, her eyesight faded and she fell back into her dreams.

…

"Sir, I believe there is breaking news coming from Sao Paulo," the AI came to life, as they were approaching the landing strip.

"Turn on the TV," Stark swung around, as the screen appeared before the group.

A female reporter spoke in English, "This is breaking news. Sources have confirmed that several medical teams are missing in the highlands. Most notable members include Dr. Romanoff and his family. They were anticipated to return to the main city earlier this afternoon. Search teams via helicopters have been deployed. We will update you with further news as the day progresses."

The group fell silent as JARVIS closed the screen. None of them were anticipating this type of news.

Thor quickly broke the silence, as he remembered about the transmitter on her computer. "Can't you trace her, Stark?"

"I can't…she doesn't have the computer on." His mind was already working on several possible ideas to help bring her home.

"There's got to be another way," Steve looked out from his window, and saw the towering clouds covering the city. "Can you remotely turn on that computer?"

"Nope," his face was sullen. The genius leaned back in his chair, not expecting this sudden turn of events. "Even if it's on and if there's any damage to the unit, there is no point."

Clint bowed his head down between his knees, wondering what the hell he could do. His worst fear was becoming reality, as he remembered that sickened feeling a long time ago when he spoke with her on that early morning about how she lost a patient. It was a feeling he couldn't shake for the rest of the day, and he had hoped it would never see the light of day until now.

He then did the unthinkable, something he hadn't done since his parents' deaths. At that time, he didn't know what to think. He was simply angry that someone could take both of his parents' lives away and ruin both his and Barney's lives. But in the cruelness, he somehow found solace in the form of Natasha. Maybe there was a plan…a hidden agenda. He silently said a small prayer. He hoped he could make a deal of some sort to bring her back. _Please let her live._ He whispered several more words, not caring for any consequences that may later manifest. He wanted her there…alive and safe.

The wheels touched down on the pavement with a shriek at first. Soon the jet taxied across several runways before stopping at a private terminal. The boys didn't want to leave the comfort of the cabin, as they worried for their missing friend.

"We can't do anything else here," Bruce tapped Tony on the shoulder, as he still was stunned. "We need to wait in the hotel room."

Clint rushed past the two, budding scientists with his belongings.

"Where do you think you're going?" Steve looked up at him.

"I'm going to the main hospital and wait for her there." He tightened his hold on his belongings, as he scowled, "And I don't care what y'all think" with a hint of his country drawl breaking through.

He rushed through the crowds trying to make his way to his final destination. The streets overflowed with tourists and locals at a local market square. His heart was set only on one thing as he ignored the sights and sounds.

His pace quickened as he was using the navigational system on his phone. Little by little he was getting closer and finally after walking for so long in the rain, he found the building. He hadn't heard anything different once he reached the main doors. News crews gathered like buzzards, while they waited for any scraps of news that filtered through.

He walked through the glass entrance and saw a reception desk. He was unsure if the elderly gentleman spoke a trace of English, but he tried anyway. "Are the Romanoffs here?"

The man cleared his throat, "No, I'm sorry. They haven't been found yet."

"Do you know where they would be staying?"

"I can't give you that information." The man returned to his duties at the desk.

"Damn it…then who can?" His steel gray eyes narrowed in frustration, as he was hitting another brick wall.

"Security," the man's voice raised in pitch.

Clint watched as two guards came around the corner and he slowly backed away. He slipped back out into the crowd and waited in the soft mist that began to fall again.

A buzz came from his phone. _I thought you might want this_. His eyes scanned the short message and Stark was already one step ahead of him. _You owe me one._ A small grin played at the corner of his lips.

By nightfall, he came across the simple apartment complex and made his way up to the fourth floor. Several occupants walked about, as he looked for the room number. He turned around a corner and followed the beige carpet down to the very end.

He pulled out his keychain and found the lock pick that he carried with him all the time. Not only did he learn archery from Buck, but he also acquired another set of skills. He jammed the metal strip and made a few flicks with his wrist until the lock gave a way with a click.

Inside, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could faintly see the outline of couch and table. His hands searched against the walls for a light switch and soon after, the room was bathed in the incandescent lighting. He dropped his backpack by the door, as he entered. Layers of dust clung to the surfaces as he surveyed the living and dining rooms. The air was laden with a heavy scent of a musty odor, as mold sought refuge in the dark recesses of the unit.

He walked past the master bedroom and eventually stumbled upon Nat's room. He didn't dare to enter, but from the hallway's lights he could see that she had kept the rose he had given her along with a duplicate photograph of them on that autumn afternoon. The two items rested on her nightstand. He thought she would've left them stateside, but there were things he still didn't understand about her.

Quietly, he shut the door and walked back to the living room, where he found another door that lead to the patio. He pulled it aside, as a gush of air ran by him. The city below was bathed in a continuous soft mist with rain clouds that drifted across from the Atlantic. His gaze honed in on the Serra de Cantareira with its rolling highlands to the north of the city. At that moment, he wondered where she was hiding beneath the canopy. His hands clutched at the railing, as he leaned over, waiting for any sirens to pierce the night. He ignored the cold liquid as it filtered through his clothing and down onto his skin.

…

**A/N: Thank you for reading and for the reviews. Thank you to those who have added this story to your favorites or story alerts. Yes, you are probably screaming at your computers right about now. Leave a review, and I love to hear from you. Until next time…**

**Estele – I'm still working on that point actually. Though the ominous conversation with Howard Stark and Fury may provide clues from the last chapter.**


	12. Chapter 12

_She calculated her steps on the narrow plank. From her vantage point, the ground wasn't inviting with the foam pads. She made a pirouette, while a shriek came from the uneven bars. It was too late. She had overcompensated on her last spin that threw off her center of gravity._

_Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father talking to an older man. She waded out of the foam, tossing several cubes to the side. She hated that she couldn't master the beam._

"_What's the matter, Natalia?" Her father looked up at her as he watched her make her way up towards him._

"_I can't do it," she muttered. "I almost had it." She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a roll of tape. "I've been at it for how long?"_

_Her father let out a soft chuckle as he ran his hands through his five-year-old daughter's pigtails. "It takes time."_

"_I almost had it…if it weren't for that girl," she looked over at the other apparatus._

"_Natalia, don't go blaming other people," her father's voice commanded. "You need to focus." She crossed her arms in her mini act of defiance. "Natalia…"_

"_Fine then," as she took a seat next to him. The pair examined the potential competition. "Who was that man?"_

_The doctor blinked several times, pretended that he didn't know the man. "It was just a random stranger." He quickly deflected the conversation, "speaking of which…don't you ever talk to random strangers. You hear me?"_

"_I hear you."_

_She stretched out her legs and headed back to the floor. Somehow, she felt he lied to her. She set aside those foreboding feelings, as she launched herself back on the beam._

…

"How are you doing?"

She felt a poke at her shoulder. "I'm fine. I just fell asleep again." She felt a cold compress over her forehead.

"Natasha…"

"Seriously I'm fine," as she tried to get up from the ground.

Her father shot up from his seat. "I don't want you to push it."

"Fine then," she dropped herself back to the ground. "I don't feel dizzy or sick to my stomach."

"Good. Let's keep it that way," he smiled.

The two gazed around their surroundings, as they watched several other medical teams access their members. Some were more fortunate than others. "I probably shouldn't have dragged you along for this one."

"I'm glad you did," a small smile graced her pale face. She was about to nod off before her father poked her in the arm.

"You need to stay awake."

"I'm trying to. I didn't sleep too well last night," she let out a small yawn. "There was something I was suppose to tell you." Her memories were adrift in a fog. Over and over, there was a vision about a man at her gymnastics practice, but she couldn't focus in on the image.

"You will eventually," he poked her again in the shoulder.

"What time is it?"

He looked down at his watch, "8:15."

"And how long have we been up here?"

"Couple of hours for sure," he laughed a little to diffuse the situation.

In the distance, she heard her mother's voice, "we have a signal!"

"Looks like we're going to have a happy ending after all," he winked.

She managed a weak smile and took her father's hand. In the back of her mind, there was something that still bothered her and it wasn't coming from her injury. If only she could remember it.

The noise from the chopper's blades were becoming louder, as a fleet of them were honing in on their location. She boarded one of them with her family, and the minute she took her seat, an image of Clint flashed across her mind. An ache began to form in her chest.

"What's wrong?" her mother looked at her.

Her brows furrowed, "It's nothing. I'm probably dehydrated."

"We'll take you to one of the exam rooms when we get back."

"I'll be fine," she stammered.

"Natasha," her father gave a second warning at her.

She crossed her arms on her chest, something she kept up from her childhood. "I'm fine, seriously." There was no point in trying to win this battle. Her parents were medical professionals, and despite being their only daughter, she had to compromise with them on this one. "It's only a check-up right, and I can then head back to my own bed?"

"We shall see…no promises," her father leaned back in his chair.

The minute the chopper landed, medical teams awaited for their arrival to assess the walking wounded. She wanted to walk in on her own accord, but her parents insisted that she lay on the gurney as they wheeled her in. Photographers and reporters were already on the scene, hoping to catch names of the survivors. She heard her father's name called out several times, but he ignored their requests.

The sterile environment was a far cry from what she saw in the previous months. And it felt the room was becoming smaller every second, as she saw personnel move about from one pod to another. Her damped clothes were stripped away and were replaced with a generic hospital gown. At that moment, the forced intimacy was enough for her to hate hospitals. In minutes, she was transferred to another room for a CT scan of her head.

When she came back, she gave her father a dirty look, "Really…a CT scan? I can make my own decisions."

"Not quite, you're not 18," he quipped back.

She gave him a narrowed glare, "Two more days to be exact."

"Stop being stubborn."

"I have both yours and Mom's genes to explain that part." She could feel her Russian blood begin to boil through her veins.

It felt like eternity as she waited for the results, while she watched her mother return with a change of clothing for her.

The doctor finally walked in with paper reports. "Good news is everything came back negative," he smiled up at her.

In seconds, she leapt off the gurney and went over to grab her clothes. "I told you so," as she looked at both of her parents.

"Just take it slow, young lady." The doctor scribbled several notes down on his clipboard.

"Alright," she muttered as she closed the door behind her.

"Teenagers," the doctor smiled and turned to his colleague. "I know you just came back from your trip, but we're currently having staffing issues. Do you think the both of you could stay for a while? We have on call rooms available." Natasha peeked out of the bathroom and overheard part of the conversation.

"We should get Natalia back to the apartment."

She stepped out from the door, "Don't worry about me."

"Tell you what, you go with Natalia back to the apartment and then come back to help."

"Dreykov, are you sure about it?" His wife looked questioningly at him. "You need your rest too."

"I'll be fine." His attitude mirrored his daughter's.

"Now I can see where she gets it," she placed her hands on her hips, as she realized it was useless.

…

The city's lights were a far cry from what she saw up in the mountains. Through the streaked windows she saw random displays. How she had missed these sights for so long? The cab continued to make its way to the outer limits until the familiar apartment complex came into view.

"You call me, if you need anything," her mother handed out a spare cellphone.

"I will," the teenager reached out to grab the metallic device. "How long will you both be working?"

"Hopefully not too long," she smiled. "At least it won't be bad like before."

"Bye, Mom." She waved at her from the front steps and watched the cab drive away into the soft mist. She climbed her way up the stairs and ignored the doctor's orders. Nothing in the apartment complex changed as she finally made it down the hallway to where the room was.

Her hands scoured the ledge above the doorframe for the spare key. The elusive object was stuck in between the wall and the ledge, as her nails pried at the metal.

"Ah ha," she finally gave one last tug.

Soon enough, she was back in her apartment, but something was amiss. The air had a scent of rainwater. She didn't remember leaving any windows open before she left on her trip back in December. She went over to the closet and grabbed a golf club.

She waited in the shadows until she heard movement coming from the patio. Within seconds, she pounced on the intruder knocking him to the ground as she attacked at his knees.

"Natasha?" he wheezed.

The voice was familiar. "Clint?" she sat on top of top of him with her thighs straddling his sides. The golf club raised above her head. "What the hell are you doing here?" she caught her breath. "How did you..."

"I was going to surprise you." He eyed her warily at the golf club.

"Sorry," as she quickly climbed off of him with her hands lightly brushing against his chest. She held out her hand to him and pulled him up from the floor.

"I've had worse," he smirked and pulled her into his arms. "I missed you," he whispered into her ear.

"Same here." She didn't care that her clothes were getting soaked from him. She was glad that he was here in the flesh.

The pair stood there in the dark living room, not wanting to break their embrace until Clint felt her shiver in his arms. When he let her go, he saw a transformation. She looked older, yet there was an air of familiarity about her. In the faint light, he could make out the swell of her breasts under the thin t-shirt and her waistline. There was something in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't deny, but how long could he fight this feeling?

"I'll show you the bathroom," she whispered.

The two walked silently down the hallway, but Clint every so often noticed Nat's missteps here and there. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she whispered. "I just have a mild headache." She turned around the corner and turned on the lights. "Extra towels are in the closet. Holler if you need anything, I'll be in my room."

She turned the knob to her room. In the distance, she heard the shower spray coming from the bathroom. She lingered at the doorway for a few seconds and leaned against the doorframe. Her eyes wandered over to her nightstand.

The rose still had a tinge of color left in its petals. She never was the one for words. The "I love you" came rarely to her lips, but she showed it to him in more subtle ways than he could ever see when she was around him. Either it was from the gleam in her eyes to the way she tackled him in gym class. These quiet actions were her way of saying it to him.

She heard the water shut off and footsteps were rummaging about in the adjacent room. She preoccupied herself by looking out the window, watching the moon rising higher.

"You're up," his country accent was faint as he stood by the doorway with a towel draped on his shoulders.

"That was quick." She felt a knot form in her throat. The sight of him there made it hard it for her to breathe. She rummaged through her drawers for a change of suitable clothing.

"You alright Nat?" He looked at her as he toweled his short sandy hair.

She brushed past him with her toiletries and change of clothing. "I'll be back in a few."

…

The warm steam coalesced against the moistened mirrors. She stepped into the stall and let the warm water run against her skin. Layers of dirt and grime washed away. She didn't want to leave the comfort of the waterfall as she felt her muscles loosen underneath the gentle caress.

A scent of vanilla and spice clung to the small confines, as she added a burst of mint with a mixture of green tea and tree oil. The last time she washed her hair was in a creek with ravenous mosquitoes.

The last of the soapsuds made their way down the drain and she felt alive again. She reached out for a towel and nearly took out her toiletries with her. The sound echoed off the hollow walls. "Shit," she hissed. There wasn't enough time before the bathroom door was jarred open and Clint rushed to her side. She quickly grabbed her violet t-shirt and covered herself. "Don't you even knock?" she barked at him.

"I thought you fell." He ran a hand through his semi-moist hair. "Jeez, you gave me a heart attack back there." He noticed she was clutching her shirt even more due to his close proximity of his body. "What am I going to do with you?" He saw the floor littered with bottles of soaps.

"I'm a klutz right now." Her damp hair framed her face and shoulders.

"No shit." He reached over to grab a towel and started to dry off her untamed auburn hair. The two didn't exchange any syllables while he focused on the task at hand. He was being mindful of her modesty as he sat behind her. Occasionally, his gray t-shirt grazed against her skin. "There," he chucked the towel towards the linen basket.

"Thanks," she murmured.

"I'll be outside by the door this time," he smirked when she turned around to face him with her shirt still clutched against her chest.

…

She found him leaning against the wall with arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were closed as he tried hard to fight an image in his mind. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," he shook his head for some clarity, but a small flush crept on his cheeks.

"I'm exhausted," she stretched in front of him. "I'm going to sleep for real this time."

"Are you sure you should be doing that?" He arched an eyebrow.

"You can randomly wake me up if you're so uncertain," she voiced her opinion.

He escorted her back to her bedroom. Without thinking, he tucked her into her bed and lay beside her. The mattress adjusted to both of their weights. She didn't make a fuss for she was tired from the day's events.

His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he stole glances at the sleeping form beside him. Her red curls captured fragments of moonlight. He never thought he would see her again, but then again fate managed to intervene several times. He wondered when his luck would run out. His eyelids felt heavy as he wrapped his arms around her waist. In his touch, he felt her hands entangle with his own. For now, she was safe in his arms and he wanted this moment to last.

…

A pair of steel, hazel eyes scanned the headlines. He dropped the last remaining remnants of cigar in the black dish. "So Dreykov…that is where you have been hiding." The older man leaned into his seat and pondered his master plan. "It's time to take back what is mine."

…

**A/N: Thanks again for reading and reviewing! Thank you to those who have added this story to their fave lists or story alerts.**

**Enjoy the sprinkles of fluff, since things will change. Let me know what you thought about this chapter. Until next time!**


	13. Chapter 13

Slivers of gold seeped through her window blinds as she stirred lightly in her bed. Her hand reached out to find her bed sheets were cold and empty. Was it all a dream? She shoved the covers off and twisted to her side. How could she have missed a day?

"Easy there," Clint leaned against the doorway. Two cups of coffee were in his hands. "Here you go, birthday girl."

"Thanks," she sipped on the hot liquid. "It's funny how you could remember my coffee." She could feel the caffeine course through her veins.

"It took me long enough," his voice was still drowsy.

"How did you get passed by my parents?"

"That took some good explanation on my part, but they were just glad that someone was watching you." He took a sip from his own mug. "They're working back in the hospital already."

"It figures." She leaned against the headboard and stared out the window, "I'll probably go there today."

"Sounds like a plan." He walked over to where she sat and placed his mug down on her nightstand. "And while you were playing Sleeping Beauty, I received a dozen of text messages from the gang."

"Let me guess, Tony is planning on something."

He chuckled, "Nothing gets by you does it?"

"Not really. Tony is playing matchmaker at this point."

"Don't tell him it's working." He bent over her and kissed her, "Happy Birthday Nat."

She could taste the hazelnut and cinnamon on his lips. "Is this going to be my birthday gift?"

"I'm improvising as we go along," he continued his ministrations.

"Oh really," her emerald eyes lighted up as she felt him lowering his body above hers. Soon enough, she felt his hands guide her very own and pinned them against the headboard.

…

The dark brunette rubbed her eyes for the umpteenth time as she poured over the files. She couldn't believe what she was reading. All the signs were pointing in the right direction. And the irony of it all, the Director had placed her in that location back in December. To this very day, she still was uncertain how he had the uncanny hunches that seem to work in the organization's favor. Maybe he was great tactician or a very good guesser. She chose the former, but then again, chance was a great variable.

She flipped through more files as jeers were heard from the corner of the lab. Everyone decided to take a break since the home team was playing. She could never understand "football" as they called it here. She bit the corner of her lip and scanned through several more files. Her concentration was broken as she received an incoming video message.

"What's your status?"

Phil appeared on the screen. His usual attire of a well-fitted, black suit was replaced with a crisp white shirt and beige khakis. "We thought we had a hit, but it was a false alarm. We're looking at a second site now."

"I see." She dragged a file on her screen, "I'm sending you some insider information. You might want to take a look at it."

"Much obliged," he dabbed at the sweat that accumulated on his brow. The wind howled against his backside as another sandstorm was forming. "Next time I get to sit in an air conditioned room," he smiled.

"How did the trip go with the teenagers to Iowa?"

"Interesting to say the least. We should keep an eye out on all of them."

"And why is that?" She scribbled something on her notepad.

"I don't know. But something tells me, there is more to the Director's plans."

"You know how he operates, Coulson."

He laughed a little, "I'll update you at our next designated time."

"Acknowledged." She dove back on her project as more jeers erupted from the front part of the room. Occasionally she peered to the lab across from her and saw her next person of interest.

…

The cerulean cube hissed back with a wave of energy, as she continued to be poked. No matter what torment she endured, she guarded her secrets.

"Fascinating." A probe was placed back on the black tiled surface. "This is a first." He went over to the computer and searched through the databanks.

"You're going to miss the game, Laufeyson!"

"I'm working here," he yelled back from his desk. His mind became consumed with his current project. "I'll be right there." His accent lingered in the empty air.

The cube hissed again at another electrical discharge. She rebelled against his prodding.

_What are you hiding?_

In the background, he heard his coworkers shout as the home team scored another goal. There were too many distractions in the lab but he figured he might as well join the ruckus. He grabbed a stack of his papers, knocking a few items off his desk.

"Don't bring your work too," a lab tech whined. "This is supposed to be a _work free_ environment."

"Have you seen what the cube is doing?" His eyes read over the numbers. "It's an energy source of some kind."

"I think you're going mad," the senior tech reached over towards the bowl of popcorn.

"Imagine the possibilities." He ignored the players on the television screen.

"Play now, work later."

A smirk played on his pale face as he adjusted his dark rim glasses on the bridge of his nose, "Alright then."

…

Natasha quickly walked across the street and entered through the glass doors. A few of the staff acknowledged her as she made her way up to the clinic. She could feel her cheeks were still flushed from her earlier surprise gift from Clint.

Her phone buzzed and it was an important message. She quickly ran across the floor to where the office was located and pushed open the door.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart."

"I thought there was an emergency up here." She sat at an open table in the break room.

A vanilla frosted cupcake with sprinkles was placed before her. Her parents knew to keep the fanfare to a minimum, since she didn't like all the attention. "Make a wish."

Her jade eyes honed in on the flickering glow. She had everything she needed right before her and even Clint was nearby. Her breath licked the flame as she secretly made her wish.

She watched her parents returned back to their work, while she went about the hospital's corridors. She bumped into Maria, who was one of the lab techs that she befriended before leaving on her trip.

"I'm glad that you're up and about." The older woman smiled back. Her hair was twisted into a bun.

"Yeah, it's good to be back in the city."

"I hear you're celebrating your birthday today."

"How did you know?"

"Words tend to spread fast in the scientific community," she nodded. "Happy Birthday."

"Thanks," the red head continued to walk down the hallway with her. "Any new projects brewing around here?"

"Word of advice, stay away from lab four."

"Why is that?"

"It just smells trouble." The brunette clutched at the paper charts in her arms. "Just don't go there."

The pair passed the room in question as a blue light emitted from a cube that was sitting on metallic platform. "What is that?"

"No one knows for sure." Her voice was firm but she knew the truth of it already. She kept up her disguise and escorted the young adult out of the lab's proximity.

"I think several of my friends in town my appreciate a little field trip."

"Natasha, don't get any ideas. I'm warning you. I don't want you on this floor." The disguised S.H.I.E.L.D. officer continued to walk down the corridor with her young charge. With the Tesseract here, no place was safe.

Another alert came from her cellphone. "Um, excuse me…I have to get this. It was great seeing you." The red head turned on her heels and went down the stairs. She pulled out her cellphone.

_Let's party, birthday girl. _Already an inward groan was forming in the back of her throat. _Don't worry… Legolas is coming too. By the way, what did you do to him this morning? _

She quickly swiped several keys across her screen, "None of your business."

_You're no fun! _

…

"Put your back into it," Tony yelled at his tennis partner. "Don't tell me you lost your swinging arm already," he quipped.

"That's what you think," the blond muttered as his hand tightened around the handle. He braced himself for another onslaught of the white water coming their way.

"I think I should've stayed back in the hotel," Bruce yelled above the rapids. "What on earth did you want to come to Costa Rica to do this?" A rogue wave hit his side of the raft. "It would've been safer to watch one of the football matches back in Sao Paulo."

"I concur with that idea," Steve yelled out, wiping away the water from his face. "I'm drowning over here."

"You both need to live a little," Tony shouted out. His eyes wandered over to a particular couple. "Oh, Romeo and Juliet."

"Can it, Stark," the archer avoided a rock with his paddle. "Are you sure about this?" he looked over to Nat.

"Absolutely." She grunted as she paddled against the foamy water. "Don't you give me that look," she gritted her teeth as she dodged her own stack of rocks.

"I'm worried about your condition."

If she could smack him with her paddle, she would've at that point but seeing that they were both at the front of the raft, she deferred the plan. "Condition," the last syllable dragged on her tongue. For the rest of the ride, Clint kept his mouth shut and read her movements to help guide the raft.

Tony was having the time of his life as he laughed against the roaring rapids. He bordered between being manic and insane from the adrenaline rush. The group ignored his bursts of emotion as they navigated down the tortuous river until they finally arrived in calmer waters.

Bruce saw the sign and he was the first to jump out of the raft. He never appreciated the phrase, terra firma, until now.

"We should do that again," Stark dropped his paddle off. The rest of the group looked otherwise less appeased at his request. "That was some quality bonding we had back there." Again the group turned towards their mastermind with death glares.

"Alright…alright," he held his arms up in defeat, "We're going back now. Party poopers."

…

An old maintenance worker shuffled through the hallways. He periodically mopped the floor and placed cautionary signs on the linoleum tiles. He stole glances, examining how things were laid out.

He pushed his cart towards the elevator. Inside the cabin, another maintenance worker was already there. They spoke in hand signals as they developed their plan. It was tougher than they thought due to the complexity of the different floor plans.

"What do you think?"

"It's going to be tricky, but we should be able to pull it off."

They both entered on the floor where the labs were stationed. A flash of blue emitted from one of the windows. "I have an idea," the older gentleman rubbed his stubble chin. "We'll have to wait for the main staff to leave on their break."

"Mr. Petrovitch, sir,"

Silence fell upon the older man as he recognized a voice. His brown eyes watched the elder Romanoff walk down the hallway. Even in his disguise, he was afraid of the astute clinician would recognize him.

"Sir."

"That was too close." He leaned against the wall, "We need to initiate our plan tonight and extract Natasha Romanoff." He saw several staff members leave the authorized area and took his opportunity. He swiped his assess badge that he stole earlier from a locker room. Carefully he entered an unoccupied lab and pretended to clean. At the same time, he was searching for anything that could possibly create the diversion he was scheming about. His eyes fell upon steel cylinders and he traced the green cords until he found a pipe. He carefully turned a switch and a soft hiss erupted. He noticed that the adjoining lab was where the blue light reflected. "Perfect." He stepped out of the room. "Alexei, do you copy?"

Static was heard in his ear bud.

"Copy, sir." The former aviator sat outside by the fountain, pretending to read a newspaper.

"Where is our target?"

"She's not on the premise."

"Alert me when she comes back." The pieces started to fall in their places. He could already see his plan in play. He was like a grandmaster in a chess game, moving pieces to be sacrificed to ultimately win. Only this time, he would eliminate Dreykov and his wife.

…

Somehow the rest of the gang ditched them once they landed back in the main city. Bruce mentioned he would visit the hospital, since he heard about ongoing research projects. Clint and Natasha hardly spoke on the plane ride, but everyone else suspected that something happened earlier in the day.

She leaned into his arm as they continued to walk on the main road. "Clint…thank you for today."

"I just can't believe it."

"Believe what?"

"That we're here." He walked at a slow steady pace. "With all the shit that happened, what are the odds?"

"True." She looked down at her Converse sneakers and matched her steps with his black boots. She listened to him talk about their tree back on the school grounds to the time he was stuck in Waverly. If she didn't have the courage to ask him, she might not have it later. She immediately cut him off midsentence, "Clint shut up and kiss me." She felt his arms crush her against his body. "I hate it when you ramble." She smiled back up at him.

"Sorry," he said sheepishly.

"I have one more errand to run at the hospital. Wanna come along?"

"Why not."

For the quiet night, the two were hoping to end on a good note. He watched her grab supplies for the clinic. She had received a text that her parents were in the research corridor wrapping up a project with another colleague. She went over to grab several more boxes when her phone rang only seconds later, "Hello? Mom? Where are you?"

The voice on the other end was breathing fast, "Your father's been shot. There's no time to explain. Get out!"

She heard a scream mixed with rapid gunfire. Her cellphone crashed onto the floor. Clint saw the color drain from her face. "We need to get out," she whispered.

Meanwhile down below them in lab four, Laufeyson sat at his desk with his hair tied back in a ponytail. His green eyes stared at the cube, mocking him with her blue light. He was tired of the games she was playing. His partner in crime sat at his own desk and messed with his own research project. He reached out to turn on a Bunsen burner. The cube reacted in the explosion and threw off a ring of energy into the lab, creating a chain reaction. "Fuck."

Clint and Natasha felt the floor vibrate as they ran down the main corridor. Mini explosions were happening everywhere. On one occasion, they dodged several oxygen tanks that became flying missiles. The pair continued to make their way but a blast separated them. Clint immediately flew backwards and connected with a wall. In the smoke and chaos, he saw people running. He looked for Natasha and screamed out her name. A buzzing sound came from both of his ears and he felt a trickle of blood coming from his left ear. "Natasha" he screamed but all he could hear was muffled sounds.

In the periphery, he saw her lying on her side, facing him. A piece of shrapnel managed to wedge in her lower abdomen. "Tasha!" His head was becoming dizzy and he stumbled to where she lay until he lost consciousness.

"Clint," she muttered. Her hand was trying to reach to where he fell until she passed out herself.

A lean soldier found the Russian lying on the ground and gingerly picked up her lithe body. The smell of copper was strong but he ignored the scent, as he pulled out the jagged metal. "She's injured but I have her, sir."

"Good, Alexei."

…

**A/N: Thanks again for reading and reviewing. Thank you to those who have added this story to your fave lists or author alerts.**

**And yes, I did add Loki in this chapter. It's about time he made an appearance.**

**Here are some clarifications from last chapter. Natalia also refers to Natasha. As for the Dreykov revelation, I'm using that one line from the movie when Natasha is interrogating Loki. I've been using Wikipedia and Marvel Universe as my sources to understand the comics, but I haven't come across anything else about Dreykov. So in a nutshell, I'm using the name for Natasha's father. Unless anyone out there has other information, please feel free to PM me.**

**Thanks again for reading. Please leave a review!**


	14. Chapter 14

He watched a pool of maroon fan out, soaking her shirt. His fingers reached out towards her as he saw her jade eyes lose their luster. She murmured something to him, but he couldn't hear her. His hand stretched out further as she tried the same. Their fingers never met as the three inches teased them. He tried sliding his body but his chest revolted against the simple gesture.

His nightmare played over and over again. He tossed and turned in his bed until he bolted straight up, tossing the covers aside. His stormy eyes focused in on the IV line that was attached in his arm.

Tony backed away from the foot of the bed in fear that the archer might tackle him, while Steve instinctively stood up from his uncomfortable recliner.

"Easy there," the science genius walked up to him. "You've been through a lot."

"Where is she?" His eyes were wild as he ignored the constant hum from his ears.

"We don't know." Tony pushed the call light, "They're searching for her."

He could barely make out the sounds coming from Tony's mouth as he saw a nurse brush pass his two friends. His voice raised in frustration and confusion. "I need to find her," he shouted out.

The nurse injected a sedative in his IV line and watched his vitals.

"What are you doing?" His sentence slurred.

The nurse scribbled on a pad, "You need to rest, Barton."

The archer fell back into his dreams, as Tony and Steve looked on wearily.

"How long will he be like this?" Steve asked.

"It's hard to say. The doctor will tell you more about his hearing loss." She adjusted the covers on his body. "He's lucky to have you both here."

Steve leaned against the wall and looked up at the empty ceiling. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his own mind. "What if I didn't say anything to him about Natasha?"

"Would you snap out of it?" Tony walked over to where he stood. "It's not your fault."

"Then why does it feel like it?" he looked straight into Tony's face. "Clint and I weren't on speaking terms for awhile after he found out about Natasha."

"You were just being a good friend to her." He leaned against the wall. "I have to put myself into the mix too."

"What do you mean?"

"It was obvious to all of us that she was still in love with Clint." Tony slid down the wall and sat on the cold floor. "Clint was just being an idiot before everything went down." he started to pick at a knot on his shoelaces. "And yes, I had to get some subtle hints from Pepper, but that's besides the point. We were all trying to be good friends. Plain and simple."

Steve joined him on the floor, as he pushed aside the old furniture in the room. "For a genius like you, I'm impressed."

"It comes with the territory, I tend not to show it that much," he winked. "It ruins the element of surprise."

Silence engulfed the room, as the two continued their vigil for Clint. Periodically, intercom pages interrupted the ambience. Heavy footsteps came close until Bruce barged his way through.

"You look like shit," Tony glanced up from his spot.

The other scientist waved him off, "I called back to the hotel room and Thor answered the phone. He told me what happened." He plopped himself on the recliner. "I was getting a tour from one of the lead researchers on gamma frequencies when it hit."

Steve looked at the two science brothers and shook his head. He ignored the gibberish that came from the pair. "I'm going to get coffee. Anyone want anything?"

"Just water," Bruce calmed down his breathing. "And maybe some ibuprofen if you can find some. My head is killing me."

The two watched the lean blond leave the room, as they focused back on Clint. "Gamma frequencies eh?"

"Yeah." Bruce carded his hand through his hair, pulling out pieces of debris from his head.

"You actually took up my suggestion."

"Now, it's not the time to get funny, Stark."

"I'm just saying," he held his hands up in surrender. His eyes wandered down to a glowing green badge on Bruce's shirt. "Um, I think there might be a problem."

"Uh no." Bruce's eyes honed in on the green glow. "I didn't think it _was_ that bad."

"You better get that checked out."

….

Thor walked about the empty hotel room, trying to help pass the time as he placed himself on watch in case Natasha decided to call. But deep down, he knew it was a phone call that would never happen. His thoughts ran back to the group's initial conversation in helping her get out of her depressed mood from missing Clint. And in hindsight, he was right. Maybe none of this would've happened in the first place if they had left her alone.

He passed by the kitchen where cereal boxes littered the kitchen island. In sure haste this morning, the boys chowed down on their bowls of cereal and tossed the bowls into a big heap in the sink's basin. Typical teenagers he mused at the thought. He was one of them as well, only his contribution came in the form of empty boxes of pop-tarts.

In the background, JARVIS had the television set on. Images of the hospital in utter chaos were panned out. Smoke billowed out from the research corridor as first responders contained the scene.

"JARVIS shut down the television...please."

In seconds, the room was quiet again. He didn't need to see the depressing news on the television screen. Already several channels aired the breaking story that Natasha's parents were found dead in an adjacent lab.

He didn't like the feeling that a black shadow was always following the group. And the worst of it was casted over Clint and Natasha. He vented out his feelings on Steve's punching bag that stood in the corner of the room. His fists connected with the durable fabric as he pounded against it. "Why them?" He muttered as he punched. "What did they do?" He vented out a little more until his knuckles rebelled against him.

In the distance, sirens wailed through the streets, transferring the injured to other local facilities. He pulled out his tablet and decided to speak to someone who would bring some clarity to his thoughts.

Instantly, a brunette appeared on the tablet's screen. "How is it over there?"

"It's nothing compared to where you are at." His voice carried across mechanical barrier. He walked with the tablet in his hand and found an empty lounge chair outside on the patio. "I miss you."

"When are you coming back?" Jane reached for several papers across her desk.

"Tony wants some quality bonding time," his gaze remained steady on her, as he imprinted on her features. "If all goes well, I can meet you after graduation."

A small smile escaped on her face, "Can you believe it?"

"What?"

"We're finally going to be together soon."

He let out a small laugh that rumbled through his chest, "It's about time."

Jane stared back at her boyfriend. "Is everything alright over there?" One of her eyebrows lifted slightly as she probed his mind.

"Yeah, I just wanted to see you."

"You'll be here in no time. You can finish telling me your stories underneath the stars."

"Have you picked a major yet?" He concealed his true feelings from her.

"Nope, I'm undecided still. Maybe you can change my mind." Doe, brown eyes gazed back at him. "Love you," her fingers went to her lips and she left the imaginary kiss for him on her screen.

"Love you, more," the blond repeated the same gesture.

"I have to go now, I hear my mom calling me."

He closed the tablet down and looked out to the vast emptiness of the foreign land. He didn't have the heart to tell her what happened. He just wanted to see that was she alright. For Jane, she was his true constant.

…

The blades interrupted her sleep as she felt she was being carried. Distant voices blended into her surroundings as she felt she was being poked and prodded. All she wanted to do was sleep. _Leave me alone. _

A burning sensation came through her right arm as she felt it was being held down by somebody's hand.

"Someone help me over here!"

Natasha thrashed about as her body reacted to the injection. She felt another needle stick on her chest. Her chartreuse eyes opened in the darkness. "Get the fuck off of me," she cursed at her assailants.

"You need to calm down, Romanoff."

"Who are you people?" She felt her heart racing. "What did you do?"

"Calm down." Ivan leaned in front of her, as he monitored her vitals. "You were seriously wounded."

"Who the hell are you?" she fired back

"I'm an old friend," a small smile appeared on the corner of his lips.

"What did you do to my family?" Her memories started to fill in the blank images, as it dawned her that it was the man that her father used to speak to during her practices.

"You won't need to worry about them any longer."

She tried to lunge at him, but her arms were restrained against the gurney. "Why me?"

"You are one special young lady." He paused slightly as he gauged her reactions.

"What do you mean?"

"You'll see in due time." The older gentleman got up from his seat. "Alexei watch over her."

"Great, I now have a babysitter," she muttered as she tried once again to loosen the restraints on her wrists.

"You're going to reopen your wound," he pointed out.

"I don't care." She spat at him.

Alexei wiped away the saliva from his face and went over to several drawers that were mounted against the wall. He drew up a syringe and squirted the liquid in the air. "I don't want to do this."

Her eyes narrowed as she calmed herself down. "What did they give me earlier?"

"A special serum. Courtesy from the Red Room." His blue eyes connected with hers as he placed the syringe in his pocket. "I'm Alexei Shostakov."

"You already know my name," she wasn't as enthused as he was. She turned her head away from him.

"Ah the silent treatment eh?" There was slight pause in his tone, "Two can play at this this game." He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored her for the rest of the flight.

…

_Two weeks later_

Clint stumbled his way through the front door, as he dropped his bag. He wanted to bury the memories of Sao Paulo in the dark recesses of his mind.

The orange tabby walked up to him and sat on his haunches, eyeing his opponent that disappeared for so long.

"What do you want?" he muttered.

The feline responded with a nonchalant meow and walked up to rub himself against Clint's boots.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Again, he heard a soft meow. He was about to pull his hearing aids out.

"Clint, you're home!" His grannie ran up to him and gave him a big hug. "I was so worried about you. Tony called and updated me everyday."

"Nice to see you too," he mumbled into her shoulder.

"You're not still bleeding anywhere are you?" She looked at him from head to toe, "Turn around."

"I'm fine." He pulled out his hearing aids for good this time and tossed them in a container.

"Why did you do that for?" She placed her hands on her hips.

"What did you say?"

Her eyes narrowed, "You know what I said."

It was true. He could barely make out what she said. "I'm going out for a moment." He grabbed his quiver along with his bow and made his way out to the vast backyard. The fields were beginning to turnover for another season. His grey eyes took hold of a rotted post and he straightened his arms out. He felt the wind push against his back as he adjusted his hold around the arrow. He didn't need his hearing aids for this. He felt the backlash of the string hit his forearm, but he ignored the pain. He saw his arrow cut across the air and landed squarely in the middle of the rotted wood. Soon, twilight chased away her brother. He quickly dashed into the house to grab a small box from his bag and ignored his grannie's wishes that it was suppertime.

He found an empty barrel in the barn and tossed a lighted match into it. Flames licked the inside of the container as it roared to life. His hands went over to the small box and he carefully broke the seal. In it, were the remnants of the life he once knew. Her white scarf and the flower he had given her on that day when he left town.

He closed his eyes as his mind drifted back to the day he left. He remembered seeing a blue curtain fluttering by her window. She had broken the cardinal rule he had given her.

His mind went back to the present task at hand, as he lifted the desiccated rose from its grave. The ribbon's tattered edges played with the hot air that spiraled about. He held the flower gingerly in his calloused hands, while the flames mocked him. He couldn't bring himself to burn the flower or any of the other items he had taken from her room.

_I'm going to find you_. _Count on it_.

….

**A/N: ****Thanks again for reading and reviewing. And thank you to those who have added this story to their fave lists or story alerts. I know the cliffhanger from the last chapter was evil, and there will be more.**

**Estele: Thank you for the information, I greatly appreciate it. **

**Bobthepegasus: Great minds do think alike. Good luck with your fanfiction writing. I think it sounds like a great idea. **

**Brandi: Yeah, I tend to write with cliffhangers sprinkled in between. And I've been known to kill off characters in my other stories. Have I said too much already?**

**yolynnjones: Thank you for your review.**

**Until next time, take care everyone! **


	15. Chapter 15

"How the hell did we mess this up, Agent Hill?" Fury paced back and forth. "Where's the blue cube?"

"It disappeared during the explosion. I have agents still scouring the scene to this day." Her voice exasperated, "It's like it had never existed."

"It has been over a month." He pounded his fists against the table. "The council isn't going to be happy about these turn of events." He tossed aside the blueprints of a massive airship that he was about to present.

"There's another problem." She added the one last tidbit to their conversation.

"What is it?" Fury regained his composure as his arms braced the table.

"Natasha Romanoff is off the grid."

Howard Stark sat in deep contemplation as he looked at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents in his study. Everything was at a standstill due to the recent events, not that he could've predicted this way. "I'll see if I can find the cube for you."

"With what?" Fury looked at him, his one good eye oscillated between anger and annoyance.

"I'll think of something." His eyes turned to a noise coming behind the fireplace. "I think our meeting is over."

"Right," Fury picked his blueprints and instructed Agent Hill to head to New Mexico for her next assignment.

The elder Stark went over to the fireplace and tapped on several marble bricks before a secret enclosure was opened. "How much did you hear of that conversation?" He eyed his son cautiously who was crouched on his knees.

"All of it." He took a long hard gulp, wondering how much trouble he was in for snooping.

"We need to have a serious discussion." He downed the last bit of his chardonnay. "I think you're ready for this."

…

Her eyes darted about as she intently watched the training sessions. A group of girls her age were dancing off in the corner. They danced as if they walked on water. Their lines were clean and straight as they pirouetted in unison to classical music. Her eyes then wandered to another group being taught in weaponry and close combat.

"What is this place?"

"This is the Red Room." Her handler spoke at ease. "You're meant to be here." The pair continued to walk down the hallway. "Ivan needs to speak to you first."

She tried to make some small talk, "How long was I out?"

"About a month."

The two entered through another set of glass doors and saw a younger group of girls being trained in linguistics. "Have I been here before?"

"Yes, when you were much smaller." Ivan spoke up from his desk as he signed several papers. "I see that you recovered from your wounds."

She clutched at her generic gown, trying to keep her exposure at a minimum. "Why am I here?"

"There's a lot to cover, Ms. Romanoff." He rubbed the faint stubble on his chin. "And it begins with your father." He gestured her to have a seat in front of him. "Your father was involved with a special project here in the Red Room. He worked for days on creating a super soldier serum, but never really perfected it. He tested it on numerous subjects, but they never achieved the strength of the super soldier we were looking for."

Natasha didn't like the direction his story was going, as she leaned into her seat. Her fierce green eyes locked onto the old man. "I still don't get why this involves me."

"Patience my dear," he lifted a finger and looked down on the stack of papers across his desk. "Over time, he tweaked the formula until he thought he mastered it. The only problem was that he wanted his freedom." He sat back in his chair and looked at Natasha briefly. "You see he had fallen in love with one of the test subjects."

"My mother."

"Precisely. He realized he harmed too many innocent lives and this was his final act." Ivan paused again as he reached out for his glass of wine and nursed it in his hand. "We told him that he needed to perfect it before we would let him leave or else, your mother would've been killed. Needless to say, he did devise a serum that was potent enough to jumpstart our program here in the Red Room. And to this day, it has become stronger."

Her mind went back to the conversation that she had with Alexei on the helicopter and it all started to make sense. "You didn't." She tried to fight back the tears now.

"The apple didn't fall far from the tree. The project has come to a full circle now. If we didn't give you that injection, you would've bled out to death and be useless." Ivan leaned back in his chair as he chose his words, "We've been watching you, Natasha. Just because your parents escaped with you, it didn't mean we were far behind. You're an asset to us."

"What does the serum do?"

"Well it's slowing your aging process down as we speak. You'll never have a cold again. And you won't be able to bear any children."

"What?"

"You heard me right," his eyes held a spark for a brief moment. "You won't have any children. Wasn't that your wish?"

"That was a private conversation back there in Sao Paulo." She was about to lunge at him before two of his personal guards and Alexei stopped her from doing so. "Let go of me. This is all a lie. You're tricking me."

"Am I? Are you sure?" He placed his hands underneath his chin and leaned forward. "Have you ever thought that your whole life has been a lie? A cover provided by your parents to protect your true nature." He turned his head to the side. "Your parents hid you well but they weren't smart enough. We always find our targets."

She remained silent in her seat as she fought a wave of tears that were ready to fall. None of it made sense and all she wanted to do was go back to the life she had. Go back to her neighborhood where she grew up in. Back to her window, where she watched Clint pace and forth in his room on school nights. Before she knew his dark secret. And now, here she was with her own secret. She crossed her arms across her chest as she felt a pair of hands lift her from her seat.

"I'll show you to your room." Alexei's voice was firm but he knew she'd been through a lot at this point.

"Why are you working for him?" She clutched at her gown.

"I owe him. He saved me." His heavy footsteps fell against the concrete. "I used to a be a test pilot in the air force. I happened to stumble upon a secret project that I wasn't even supposed to be aware of. The military and even the KGB tried to kill me, but then I found Ivan along the way. He faked my own death."

"I see." The red head continued to look about, searching for any possible exits but there were none.

"We're here." He stopped short in front of a door and punched in a key code. "There's a change of clothing on the bed for you. Training begins tomorrow."

She watched Alexei close the door behind him. She tried to open it but it was locked from the outside. She was alone again and she hated that feeling that festered in the pit of her stomach. The mind games had begun and this was only the beginning.

She walked over to the mirror and saw her face. It was pale in comparison to what she remembered. She stripped off her gown and let the fabric pooled at the bottom of her feet. A faint scar where the shrapnel had hit her was barely visible on her abdomen. Otherwise, the mirror concealed no lies. She walked over to the bed and gathered the synthetic material in her hands. The black fabric was smooth yet light, and she zipped up the suit.

That night faces from her past seeped into her dreams. Memories she wanted to drop from existence but they all haunted her. Her parents and even Clint tormented her.

His feral eyes were locked on her as he locked his arrow over her chest. The metallic tip broke the surface of her pale skin. A slow trickle of red ran down between her breasts. She clawed at his face but felt the arrow lodge deeper into her skin. She let out a hiss. "Die Romanoff." She bolted up in her bed as sweat dotted her forehead.

A pair of arms encircled her, "It's a reaction from the serum. Calm down."

"Make it stop," she pleaded. "I can't take it anymore. It's the same dream even when I was back in the infirmary."

"It's going to be over soon." Alexei turned her around in his arms. "Go back to sleep."

…

Life slowly adjusted in the Red Room as she saw her classmates perform the duties they were instructed. Thankfully no one asked anything about from her past life. Slowly, she felt her memories slip away. The nightmares were ending but she couldn't forget the one about an arrow above her heart. The name she couldn't recall, but she could always feel stormy gray eyes hunting her in her sleep.

"Again." Her ballet instructor called out from her post.

Her body adjusted to the change in her center of gravity, as she held up her right leg and spun with her left. With her gymnastics ability, she learned to compensate well with it.

"From the beginning." The stern woman eyed her pupils, watching for any breakage in their lines as they danced.

Natasha kept her concentration as she went about the room, keeping her toes straight. She could hear one of the girls being struck as her instructor went about the room. Only five more minutes before her next rotation, which was in weaponry and close combat.

The room went off with a low buzz. Immediately the girls gathered their belongings and changed out of their leotards and slippers. Natasha walked back to the main room, where several stations were divided out.

"You again," she muttered.

"I thought we were past that." Alexei went through a pile of knives and tossed the dull blades out. "I take it that you find ballet fascinating by now."

"Shut up."

"That's not the way to talk to your superior," he walked over her with a blade at her throat. His breath tickled against her skin as a hand snaked up her waist.

The two continued their banter, even though everyone else thought it was real. "Take your best shot then," she smirked. She felt the blade withdraw from the base of her neck.

There was nothing special as the two sparred. Her agility and quickness on her feet countered his aggressive actions as he calculated his moves. Ivan watched from the platform to see how his star pupil was doing. "Do you think she's ready?" An officer looked up at the old man.

"Soon enough. She has excelled over our expectations. And I think it's time for the final test before she can become the Black Widow."

…

Natasha sat next to brunette that she had befriended at the very start of her training. For one thing, she wasn't afraid of her despite what rumors spread about the compound regarding the red head. The petite female took a bite from her sandwich and continued to read her manual.

"They're saying that you slept with Alexei," she batted an eyebrow as she took another bite from her food. "You seemed to be getting pretty cozy next to him in the training session today."

"They're rumors, Irina." She took a hard swallow from her bottle of water. She wished it was vodka instead. "He's my instructor."

"Easy for you to say," she flipped another page as her hazel eyes gathered the information on the page.

"How long have you been here?" A question she never really asked of her until now.

"I was here since I was seven years old." Her focus remained on the page before her.

"That's awfully a long time."

"It has been but this is my home now." She put the booklet down and watched the other females gathered in the cafeteria. Each one was designed for a special skillset except for a few like Natasha and herself. She mulled at the thought of the next round to select Black Widows. Any day know she thought to herself.

Her chartreuse eyes noticed a change in her friend's composure, "What is it?"

Irina's mind came back into the conversation, "It's nothing really."

Ivan entered the room with several of his guards. "I need to make an announcement… would these students please come forth. Natasha Romanoff and Irina Kirov." The two ladies stepped forward as a gathered hush grew about the room. All eyes bore through their backs as they stood in front of Ivan. "It's time to select the Black Widow."

Natasha glared over at Irina who already dreaded this moment. "You knew this was going to happen. Didn't you?" The petite brunette shook her head silently.

"Best of luck to the both you." Ivan stepped away from them as his guards lead them to the training grounds.

Right now, she felt like a caged animal. She couldn't fight off her friend that befriended her at the very beginning. This wasn't right and it was unfair. The guard shoved her through the room. If only she could grab his gun and maybe put a bullet in herself that would bring an end to this charade. It would be too easy and Ivan probably ran each of the scenarios that were running in her head.

The doors to the room opened and she slid out into the shadows. Her only weapon came in the forms of a single blade and 9mm caliber gun. She hid between two pillars and eyed the field. She grabbed her gun and pointed it directly in front of her.

Both Irina and her were matched in the stealth. It was now a game between cat and mouse. She strained her hearing to see if brunette was coming her way but there was nothing. She didn't know how long she waited in the shadows until a noise came off from the distance. It was a long ping at first until it grew louder.

An explosion engulfed the room and Irina was in the midst of the fiery implosion. Instantly the two locked eyes on each other. She could see the brunette running towards her with her arrow ready to pierce her.

Natasha countered with several back flips to avoid it. Her foot lost her footing against the metal floor, as she twisted into a half summersault with her leg extended to the ground. Irina managed to hit her with an arrow that lodged itself into her suit. Already, she could feel a trail of warmth run down her left arm. She pulled at the slender shaft and tossed it to the ground with a clank.

"Stop running, Romanoff." The girl cried out. She restrung another arrow and tightened her hold on the string. "Only one of us comes out alive."

"I don't want to hurt you." She held her arms up as a sign of surrender.

"You have a weak heart then," her hazel eyes became enraged.

This was not the Irina she remembered. Somehow there was a switch in her personality. "Snap out of it." Another arrow whizzed past by her. Right then, she knew this was a fight to the death. She couldn't rescue her. She lunged at her and knocked her to the ground.

The two were now in hand-to-hand combat, and Natasha swung herself around a pole, gathering the momentum to knock Irina back onto the ground. Quickly, the brunette got up from the ground and grabbed the gun from Natasha's belt. The barrel pointed directly at the redhead.

Natasha lunged at her despite being fired upon. This time she scratched at the girl's hands and tried to regain control of the weapon. In the chaos of it, the gun discharged and two ladies were both shocked.

"No," she whispered.

The floodlights turned on and her gaze fell upon her fallen comrade. Her hazel eyes were still open as they looked directly back into her green orbs. Her face had a sense of peace and there was a smile on her face. A trickle of blood ran down the corner of her lips. Natasha bent down and closed her eyelids.

"Congratulations, Ms. Romanoff or should I say the Black Widow."

…

**A/N: Thank you to XxTheXBlindBanditxX, yolynnjones, Estele, and Brandi for their reviews. Also thank you to those for adding this story to your fave lists and story alerts. **

**I'm having fun writing this storyline out. Initially, it only was supposed to be ten chapters long. I decided to write a Natasha-centric chapter to get her backstory established using some elements from comic verse, since Clint's was established earlier. Don't worry Clint isn't out of the picture. He's returning in the next chapter. **

**Reviews are like chocolate to me. **

**Until next time!**


	16. Chapter 16

He eyed a familiar face. "You're falling apart old man."

"The same goes for you too." He noticed his former trainee donned hearing aids. "Interesting equipment you have there."

Clint shot him a look, "I'd come sooner if you had called." He reached over to the canister and helped himself to a hot cup of coffee.

"I'm not dead yet." His eyes lost the luster they used to have. "I see you still have that bow."

"I had to replace the strings not too long ago."

The pair of friends sat overlooking a clearing. Clint watched his mentor slowly waste away right before his eyes. HIs cheeks were pale and sunken in, as his wilted hands were casted by his sides. It just seemed like yesterday he was at the circus enjoying everyone's company. "How long?"

"Eh. The docs keep giving me a timeframe, but I keep beating their time stamps." He hacked up again into his handkerchief. "I told them no more. I stopped the chemo weeks ago."

Clint fought back the urge to say something that would knock some sense into his mentor, but he held back. He knew Buck wouldn't listen to him. Hell, when did the guy ever listen to anyone? It was the other way around when it came to him. No one dared to defy the great Trick Shot. "I just wished you told me sooner."

He laughed a little, "And make you worry? I don't think so, Francis."

The archer rarely heard his middle name and he froze there for a moment. His arms held the arrow in his hand as he felt the string tighten, while his eyes focused on movement in the clearing. The last time someone called him that was Nat.

"_You didn't tell me about your middle name." Her green eyes lighted up with delight after finding the new tidbit that she could torment him. It was her secret weapon. _

_He closed the book he was reading, "How did you?"_

"_It was from Pepper. You know she is a yearbook editor." She chewed on the tip of her eraser. _

"_Right." He propped the book under his chin and wondered what her next play would be. _

_Her voice was barely above a whisper as she sat across from him in the library, "It suits you, Francis." _

"_Geez, it's a family name. I think some great relative…who knows." He scratched his head. He felt her eyes on him still. "I need to study," he muttered. "Lit class is kicking me in the ass." _

"_Funny. You hardly make a sentence rhyme when you're really studying. If it gives you great pain, I won't use that name," she teased. "I thought it was interesting."_

"_Want to take this to the mat?" He couldn't resist challenging her then and there. And for one thing, he knew she wouldn't back down from this offer. He began to calculate the possible outcomes of their duel. Lately he had been on a losing streak, but each time, he started to increase his blocks against her and she even noticed it too. _

"_Fine, it's a deal." She turned on her heels, "See you in five. Be prepared." _

_The room was empty as the last period bell rang. Clint saw her already standing underneath the clock. She had divested her white blouse and dark jeans, and into something more suitable. _

"_Let's get this started." He planted his feet down on the soft pads. _

"_You're going down," she smirked. _

"_Ladies first." The adrenaline rushed through his veins as he saw a blur coming at him. In a rare move, he caught her by surprise as he flipped her over onto her back. She easily snaked out his hold and tightened her arms around his neck, sending him onto his side. He didn't tap on the mat to signal her to stop. He could feel her choke increasing. His hands wrapped her back and latched onto her ponytail. He yanked on it, as he heard her growl. _

_There was a gap in her defense and he took the opportunity. She had made the fatal mistake. Somehow her chokehold loosened and he dropped to his knees and kicked her down. Immediately he pounced her, pinning her to the ground as he sat on top of her at her waist. _

"_I see that you have improved. That was a cheap shot back there," she caught her breath. "You're forgetting one minor detail." _

"_What is that?" as he leaned back. _

_It was unexpected as he felt her hit the back of his head with her leg. He stumbled off of her. He shook his head several times, chasing the floaters from his vision. "Tash," he rubbed the back of his head. _

"_You forgot about my flexibility. See you around, Francis" _

_A week later, he rummaged through his locker and found a package wrapped in paper. He opened it and looked down on the DVD. He was annoyed to say the least as she taunted him._

"_What's that you have there?" Stark peered over his shoulders. "A movie about golf? The physics genius was trying to understand why one of his friends had the movie in the first place. "You don't golf. Heck, you don't even play any sports." _

"_Stark, mind your own business unless you want stitches," he shot him a glare. In his peripheral vision, he spotted a head of red curls coming their way._

"_Hello boys," she tilted her head, pretending to play along. She saw Barton shove the DVD back into his locker and looked directly at her. _

"_Did I just miss something?" Tony looked between them. _

"_Not really," Nat clutched at her notebook by her chest. In her eyes, she won this round. _

"_Well look at the time, I have to go. Tennis practice." He clapped his hands together and darted off into the crowd._

_Clint shut his locker door and turned towards her, "You know it's illegal to break into lockers." _

"_I know," she looked back at him with her fierce jade eyes. "I thought you would appreciate the fact there are famous people named…"_

_He immediately cut her off by placing his index finger on her lips. _

"There you go again, that daydreaming of yours." Buck pulled out his short distance rifle and anchored it on the ground. The sound of gunfire startled several birds in the nearby trees as they took flight to escape the danger zone.

Clint shook his head and regained his focus. "You missed."

"You're no good when you daydream," he slapped him on the shoulder. "I'm no good anymore without my bow. The drugs knocked me out."

The pair watched their game disappeared into the safety of the forest. The two men sat there in silence, watching the growing sunrise. "We might as well sit here and wait for the next deer to run across." Buck sat up and leaned against a trunk. His gaze remained focus on the ever-changing skies above them.

"Do you ever think about it?"

"Yeah. We live and we die. End of story." He reached for his canister of coffee. "Enough about me. So where have you been my boy? Still pining about her?" he lifted an eyebrow. "Give me gossip, help a dying man out here."

"Well I actually got a job here not too far away. That way I can keep you in line."

"Is that so?" He kicked his feet in the dirt, watching the small clumps trail down from the mound he made. "You can't keep me on a short leash now." He returned to their initial gossip, "Is there a lady in your life now?"

He set aside his bow and quiver off on the ground, "No."

"When was the last time you got laid?"

That came out of nowhere, but he was dealing with Buck after all. Hands down, there were no filters on his conversations. Everything was game. For the times he was at the circus back in Waverly, if his grannie had stayed throughout the day, she might as well put soap in Clint's mouth and boxed his ears if she was old fashion. Thankfully she wasn't. "A couple of months ago." He finally broke the silence.

"Oi." He tried hiding his laugh, but he couldn't. "You got some work to do."

…

The engine hissed as it rebelled to go any further. The blonde slammed her hands against the steering wheel. 4,000 miles and the mechanical heart failed now of all places. She shook her head in disbelief, wondering if she'll ever make her deadline for her research project now.

She hopped out of her jeep and inspected the damage. White puffs of steam shot at her, while she pried at the hood. Being a marine biologist, the engine was foreign to her. "Just perfect," she muttered under her breath, and slammed the hood back down. The ten year-old jeep spewed more steam at her for the roughness. It was dead on arrival.

She looked back and forth to see if there were any signs of traffic, but it was quiet back road she decided to take. _What mile marker was that back there? _She could feel the increasing humidity as the sun rose higher. There weren't many options at this point. _Stay by the jeep._ She chuckled at the thought, as she played against the odds. She probably had a higher rate of death getting killed by some knife wielding serial killer. And then again, she could gamble and risk trying to find some sort of gas station. _Bobbi…what were you thinking?_ She did remember the engine light going off 100 miles ago.

Two hours passed, and she could feel the sweat tickling the back of her neck. And then she felt a burning pain. She ran her hand to the nape, and the skin felt cracked and try over the tender area. And with that, she grabbed her luggage and water. She was going to trek back to the last mile marker. There was no point in staying…no one was coming.

Her luggage wheels rolled against the searing concrete, and she feared the wheels would melt before she would find anyone. What on earth made her come down to Florida at a time during the most extreme heat is anyone's guess. It was for the glory of publishing a paper…that's what she kept telling herself.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something arch over the roadway. At first, she thought it was an egret, but the heat was messing with her vision. She hurriedly ran over to where she saw it.

The brush moved and out came a stranger, "Are you lost?"

Her eyes finally thanked the heavens, "My jeep broke down back there." She pointed down the roadway. "Where the hell am I?"

The stranger laughed. "Geographically in the Everglades."

"No shit," her eyes narrowed. This conversation wasn't getting anywhere. "Well if you're not going to help me, I'll be on my way."

"I'm messing with you," he rubbed his hand through this hair, "You're two hours north of Cape Sable."

"That sounds about right." Her eyes followed the stranger before, as he went to the dense brush and pulled out his catch.

"They're for the hawks," he yanked out an arrow from a squirrel.

She nodded her head, as to whether she should trust him. "I'm Bobbi."

"You must be the new marine biologist at the wildlife preserve," he glanced at her, as he cleaned off his arrow with a small towel.

"You knew it was me all this time."

"Yeah."

"Then why did you say something," her voice's pitch raised. She was debating about throwing punches at him, but thought better of it in case the need for it were to rise again.

"Calm down, Bobbi," he laughed.

"I spent two hours by my useless jeep, and here you are shooting at squirrels!"

He watched her rant for a few more seconds, and it reminded him about a certain red head. "I'll help you."

She was about to say something else, "Finally."

"I'm Clint," he stuck his hand out, being mindful not to get any blood on her. He was surprised that she shook his hand.

"Pleased to meet you."

He took her luggage and she followed behind him. "What does your research involve again?"

"Temperature variation on ecosystems." She swatted a large mosquito from her.

"Right," he scratched his head, as he navigated his way under the cover of mangrove trees. "Have fun with that one."

She let out a laugh, "You make it sound it's a _boring_ project."

"Whatever you say, sister." He pulled away at more foliage.

"Are you lost?" She called ahead to him, "I feel like we're going in circles."

"No," he snorted back. He took a couple more steps until his truck came into view. "Where do you want to go first? The crappy jeep or the reserve? Either way we're about 30 minutes away."

"How about the reserve?" She smiled at him.

"Good choice," as he placed his recent kills in the truck-bed.

She hopped into the passenger seat and looked about her new surroundings. She tied her hair into a braid. "It sure is humid here."

"Nice timing on your part."

She let out a small laugh. "So what's your story?" Her eyes were set upon the hearing aids.

"I don't want to go there." His gray eyes were glued on the road. "It's a long story."

The marine biologist became quiet for the rest of the ride. In the back of her mind, she felt a wall building up around him. There was something about him, an air of mystery and sadness in his eyes that she finally came to the conclusion. Being a scientist, she had to be objective. But something in her, told her there was more than he was letting on and she was determined to figure that out.

…

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. And thank you to those who have added this story to their fave lists and story alerts. **

**I hope you all liked the mini flashback with Clint and Nat in this one. There will be a reunion with them soon, but my lips are sealed. And now with Bobbi in the picture, it'll be interesting. **

**I would've updated sooner, but if you need to see my explanation…see below. Having a concussion is not fun. And the irony of it all, I was working on an article about it for work. **

**Guest – Thanks for reading! I'm not the greatest with summaries but I'm glad you stumbled upon my story. **

**RosalieRowan – Thank you for your review. Don't worry the story isn't going to end soon. **

**Brandi – I'm laughing at part of your review. You must be some psychic because the lack of my update was that I had a mishap at work. Needless to say, the door won when someone decided to open it from the other side when I tried to swipe my badge in front of it. And bam, the door hit me squarely in between my eyes and forehead. I have a big goose egg on my forehead now, but thankfully no other serious damage.**

**yolynnjones – No reunion yet, but there will be one eventually. **

**Until next time! **


	17. Chapter 17

"You're getting careless back there." The ex-aviator stood by the doorway as his eyes wandered over to his young charge. He faintly traced the outline of her taut muscles in the shadows.

"You're no help," she lashed out. She reached over to the nightstand and grabbed several gauzes from a small package. "I almost had it." She let her suit fall further from her back as she applied pressure to her shoulder, ignoring Alexei's prying eyes. "Shit." She pitched the soaked gauze and grabbed another one. She could smell the copper saturating the synthetic fabric.

"I can send in the medical team."

"I don't need them. You need one for yourself," she hissed. Never once did she turn around to greet him. "Make yourself useful and stand on point if you're not going to do anything." Instead, she heard his footfalls against the carpet drawing near to her.

She ignored his close proximity and searched through her bag to stop the bleeding. "I didn't go through all that training for nothing."

"Then where is it?"

"I couldn't get to it in time and you were compromised," she spun around with a hypodermic needle aimed at his jugular. "Stop talking and take point."

There was no arguing with her. He put his hands up in defeat and walked out from her hotel room without an after thought, muttering something in Russian, as she cursed back at him in the same regard. That was their relationship, each one feeding off each other's anger. With a night like this, she wanted to be anywhere but here.

She tossed her Widow's Bite on the king sized bed and slipped out of her suit into a cami and shorts. Her mind was still racing from her failed attempt. She didn't think she would come across anyone in this big city. Her eyes focused on the balcony as she pulled aside the doors. The Pacific air blew past her as she saw the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance being bathed in a pool of fog. Her eyes wandered towards the hilly city and saw lights snake their way up and down the streets.

_The applause was deafening as she made the last of her pirouettes on pointe. Her eyes scanned the crowd for her acquired target as he sat in the front row next to his wife. The gentleman of 60 years of wisdom was hiding behind a cover of being a lucrative financial counselor. But in essence, he was an arms dealer. Ivan instructed her to obtain his plans and bring them back to him when she acquired them. _

_The red curtains were drawn towards center stage and she exited quickly to stage left. She bounded down the stairs, occasionally grabbing roses from the company's patrons. She caught the eyes of the middle-aged man and walked over towards him. _

"_Why isn't this the prima ballerina herself, Ms. Yelena Belova?"_

_She nodded politely as she offered her hand. "I hope you enjoyed the performance tonight," her lips turned into a smile as she hid her personal agenda. _

"_Certainly and so did my wife." He pulled the blonde at his side. _

"_You were splendid out there."_

"_Thank you," she curtsied. "Enjoy your night." She shook their hands again and posed for a picture with them. _

_The crowd thickened as more congratulations came her way. One by one she played along. Eventually she made it back to her dressing room and undid her red hair from the tight bun. Cascade of fiery curls framed her shoulders. _

"_Is it done?" Alexei's voice drifted over invisible earpiece. _

"_The tracker is on him now." She stripped away from the vintage rose gown and left it dangling on a hanger. Her Black Widow suit was hiding in the shadows. _

"_I'm sending you the coordinates now. Meet you in ten." _

_The streets were damped from the early evening shower, as she walked in the alleyways, avoiding the crowds. Her footsteps startled several rats that darted from one dumpster to another. Her emerald eyes focused on the tower ahead with its glass windows. _

_Two security guards remained at the front with their eyes trained on the monitors. The minute her hand met with the doors they had less than four seconds to react. She whipped out her pepper spray and subdued the potbelly guards without any qualms. The hallways were eerily quiet as she took down the cameras one by one until she found Alexei upstairs in the corporate office. _

"_It's about time you showed up," he scoffed. He went back to the paper trail in the file cabinets. _

_Natasha ignored him and went to the back room where the desktop stood on the mahogany table. Of course, no idiot would leave their desktop unsecured. Her fingers danced across the keyboard as she broke through the firewalls and encryption. She was about to insert her USB port into the machine and that's when she knew something was amiss. _

_Alexei became too quiet. _

_Her hands flew back as she grabbed a pair of arms behind her and flipped backwards, taking down her unknown assailant. In a flash of red, she felt a hook come across her back connecting with her left shoulder. _

_She activated her Widow's Bite and saw the blue sparks surging through her gloves. Her training back at the Red Room was put to the test as her opponent matched her moves. At one point, she went for the neck and stunned the masked man. He went down with a groan as she went back to check the file status… 90%…almost complete. _

_She heard movement coming down from the floor and launched herself onto him. She was about to pull out her gun when a figure brushed past the computer. Her hands grappled two sai, one in each hand. _

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you." She pointed the blades at her. "I think you're looking for this." _

_Natasha kept a hold on her captive, while pointing her gun at the other female, "Give that to me. You don't need it."_

"_On the contrary, my dear, I do." Her eyes held a wicked gleam. "Who are you working for?" _

"_What did you do to my partner?" _

"_You mean that chauvinistic red-head? He's in the storage closet…licking his wounds and ego." _

"_You don't say?" she raised an eyebrow, her finger still on the trigger._

"_How about we make a trade, seeing that you are a stubborn bitch." She placed one of her blades back into her belt. "This for him." She dangled the USB port in front of her, teasing her to make a decision. _

_She was stuck at the crossroads and she knew this stalemate couldn't last forever. Her main objective was to obtain the information from that computer. "Fine then. Toss me that USB key and I'll let him go." _

"_Whatever you say." Her movements were swift as she pretended to toss the electronic device, while at the same time she grabbed her partner. _

_The Black Widow easily saw through the screen of deception and fired upon the pair. _

_The masked man finally woke up from his subdued state and his voice was filled with bewilderment, "Natasha?" His female partner immediately yanked him through a back door. _

"_Fuck." She fired several more rounds until she emptied her magazine. The smoke cleared. In the darkness, she saw the bullet holes on the peppered wall. Her eyes followed the trail until there was some red that was smeared on the surface. She walked nonchalantly to where the two escaped and pushed aside the door. A trail of red ran down the stairs. _

_In the back of her mind, her name repeated over and over again as she confirmed her worst fears. The voice belonged to Matt. _

…

"Did you have time to cool off?"

"Hn." Her eyes narrowed at the sound of his voice. "I did. And it's still not enough." She turned around to face him from the balcony, "Ivan isn't going to be pleased about these turn of events."

"He won't be."

"Our cover is blown." She felt his hands wrap around her waist.

"I think we should keep playing husband and wife." His breath tickled the back of her neck.

"Keep dreaming," she twisted in his arms as she saw his stern gaze meet her green eyes.

"I'm serious."

"It won't work."

He continued to hold onto her, "Think about it."

She shook her head in denial. Before any more words were exchanged between the master spies, her cell phone rang off. The silence between them was shattered. "That must be the boss calling." She shoved him aside and walked over to the nightstand. "Hello?"

"Pack your bags and be ready for the extraction. Meet at Fisherman's Wharf for your next mission."

…

The water lapped at the sides, while the small boat made its way upstream. Bobbi sat off to the side, as Clint steered. The silence was stifling, since she hadn't made any progress in cracking her escort's past. Except for the rare stolen moments as she walked by his office. She remembered on several occasions, he would hold a small gray box that was locked. Her thoughts went over her current cache of water samples, while her left thumb played with an invisible ring on her fourth finger.

_The countryside was a far cry from the city she saw earlier. The land had morphed into autumn shades of gold and orange. Today her research team was at the south end of Windermere, which was part of the Lake District. _

_Her eyes gazed out on the misty morning, but she heard footsteps come behind her. _

"_So look what the cat dragged out of the bag?" she smiled, stealing away at the morning's serenity. _

"_You're up way too early for me, my dear." His British accent was deep as he wrapped his arms around her petite waist. _

_She loved the way he held her in his arms. Never in her wildest dreams she did she think she would find someone across the pond, but then again, life works in mysterious ways. The two had met on the outskirts of London with their respective teams as they poured over their research data at the consortium of budding scientists two years earlier. And now, they were partners. _

"_I have something for your," Kevin whispered into her ear. "I think this is the perfect moment." The brunette wondered what he could possibly be up to._

_He pulled out a black velvet box and went down on one knee. In the rising sunlight, the squared diamond captured the rays. "Marry me?" _

_She was at a lost for words. "Kevin…I can't believe it…yes." She felt him slip the platinum band on her left ring finger. _

The engine reeved up and the sound snapped her out of her memory. "Everything alright?" Clint called from the steering wheel.

"Yeah," she replied as her eyes turned to the trees that lined the waterway. "When will we reach the station?"

"Soon." Again, silence engulfed the pair except for the random lapping of water against the boat's hull.

To help pass the time, she eyed the tree line and caught snowy egrets walking about. Eventually, the boat finally arrived to the pier and she could see her assistant waiting at the end of the dock.

The pair disembarked without an exchange of words. Again, Bobbi rubbed her left thumb on her empty ring finger as she unloaded her payload of data.

…

"What's his deal?" Bobbi jotted several notes down as she eyed precariously the test tubes filled with water samples.

"You mean, Barton?" Her temporary assistant shuffled the boxes from one corner of the room to the other end.

"Yeah."

"He mostly keeps to himself." The girl lifted one of the boxes. "I think he had a girlfriend."

"Does he mention about her?" Her eyes were raised in interest, as she tried ways to distract herself from her ongoing project.

"You should talk to him."

"I tried...it was a dead end."

"I'm about done here. Do you need anything when I head into town?" The brunette adjusted her black-framed glasses and wiped the sweat from her forehead.

"I'll be fine. You can take tomorrow off." She watched her assistant's eyes light up at the generous gesture. The lab fell quiet once more as she returned back to her writing filled with neat strokes that were tiny and legible.

The windows captured the changing skies as another sunset told hold of the Floridian landscape. Hues of red morphed into a dull shade of lavender and to the eventual twilight. She finished checking her numbers and adjusted her data well into the night.

Somewhere between the late hours and in the chorus of insects buzzing, she managed to fit one clandestine project into her busy schedule. Her fingers typed away as she set a program to decode the message. It was from headquarters and the treasure trove of information was outstanding. On her screen, a snapshot of the Black Widow was displayed across the screen. The still images were taken from San Francisco. She dragged the cursor and clicked on the print button.

_Caution advised…system wide failure expected. Do not take out the target alone if sighted._

The marine biologist heard footsteps coming her way and she quickly minimized her computer screen. She haphazardly threw papers about her workstation, pretending to be occupied with her work. The footsteps crew louder in the corridor. She had to make a decision in seconds and with that, she played possum with her fake slumber. Her arms were stretch across the table as her right hand curled about a pen with some scribble that faded into her chicken scratch.

…

Clint saw the light at the end of the hallway and figured Bobbi stayed late working. He was making his rounds on the facility, since he occasionally moonlighted as their temporary security guard. He saw the blonde had fallen asleep at her table despite the two cups of empty coffee that were close by. He walked up to the sleeping form and was about to nudge her awake but thought of better of it. He found her blouse lying next to her on an empty seat, and he carefully draped the light fabric across her shoulders.

His keen eyes caught something that was out of the ordinary for the scientist. Buried deep in her papers was a picture of Natasha wearing a tight black suit. Her face was different, as she looked distant and cold. But, it was his Natasha. The girl that he used to know with a set of red curls that ran down her shoulders and back. The girl who saved him so many times from his abusive brother. The girl who taught him the importance of friendship and trust. Of all the times he was with her, he never recalled a photo of her like this. The blonde stirred in her slumber and it was enough for him to move on before he was caught.

He ran out through the back doors and felt the mild air rush besides his face. Outside, he felt nauseated and wondered how the hell did Bobbi get a picture of Natasha. There was something more than the blonde was letting on. In that moment, his mind began to race and he created a trap for the alleged marine biologist.

…

**Where will Natasha and Alexei end up next? How will Clint extract the information from Bobbi or will he fall for her in the process? **

**Thank you to RosalieRowan, yolynnjones, UnperfectlyPerfect, and Brandi GoLightly for their reviews. And thank you to those you have added this story to their fave list or story alerts. 94 followers – I can't believe it! **

**Please leave a review and let me you know what you think. **

**I finally saw the trailer to _Iron Man 3_. I can't wait for it to be in theaters next year. And I did watch **_**Skyfall **_**yesterday. Needless to say, it was very impressive. Go watch it…that's part of your homework. **

**Well I have to work on two projects for work. If I don't get a chance to update, I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season. Who knows if I get enough words of encouragement, there might be an early present for all of you. **

**P.S. – Don't forget SNL…November 17****th****! **

**So I left everyone with three assignments: r****eview, w****atch **_**Skyfall, **_**and SNL**_**. **_**Thanks for reading! Until next time...**


	18. Chapter 18

There it was again. She felt a shadow following her as she wandered down the street. The air was filled with a hint of fresh rain. She zipped up her jacket beneath her neckline as she continued on her way home. The foreboding feeling that something was going to happen clung to her. She increased her stride, blending in with the massive rush hour of pedestrians. The footsteps behind her matched her stride. She decided to turn around the corner and there he was. A tiny red light slowly made its way from her waist and curved the outline of her left breast. It finally settled right above her heart. He fired at her. "Die…Black Widow," his words stung like poison as she felt the arrow pierce through her jacket and suit. Natasha bolted from her bed, as she gasped for air. The nightmare was becoming more real every time she slept.

"It was a bad dream," Alexei saw her becoming undone. He went over to the table and lit their only single light source…a single candle.

Natasha wrapped herself in the bed sheet as her dull green eyes looked out their window. Ice frosted the windows as another snowstorm raged outside on the Siberian tundra.

The two master spies made it to their safe house after eliminating potential competition. A group of former scientists that worked on the Red Room's super soldier serum were threatening to defect. Natasha had watched from the doorway as Alexei moved swiftly in clearing the field.

She heard a click come from behind her and saw a young girl of fifteen years of age with blonde hair hold a pistol at her. Without hesitation, she fired at the teenager directly in her heart. And she saw another target at the corner of the stairs and fired again.

The house fell silent as the pair scourged the area and destroyed any damaging information that may leak the Red Room's secrets. Natasha walked out as the smell of kerosene and gas became potent. She watched Alexei striking a match. Soon enough, the small structure started to fall apart with wooden beams crashing to the ground.

Natasha rocked herself back and forth on the bed. She still envisioned the scene with the two murdered teenagers. And she could see Irina all over again. Her distant eyes glazed over, staring right back at her. And then the countless others from her missions in Siberia with their faces all like Irina, "I've got red in my ledger," she whispered.

"Sssh, it's going to be alright." Alexei pulled her into his arms. "It's going to be alright."

"How do you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Can you live like this?"

"You're talking nonsense, Natalia."

"Am I?"

"There's death everyday." He pulled at her tighter, "Look at me." He forced his hand on her face, "You had that dream again, didn't you?" She nodded her head in response.

"You're going to be fine." He looked squarely at her eyes and kissed her on her lips, coaxing her to oblige.

Slowly her hands made his way to his back and she was coming back to life for a brief moment. This was nothing as compared to the torture she endured in the Red Room with the training sessions. In a surprise move, she twisted herself on top of her husband.

"Now this is the Natalia I know," he smirked.

…

It had been a year. Clint waited for the right time to spring his trap. The fire licked into the night air as the bonfire roared to life. Through the twisting flames, he could see Bobbi walking out from her office and towards his way like a moth driven to a flame. From his vantage point, he had the upper hand and stalked her with his gray eyes. Throughout the previous months, he made some small talk here and there to keep her occupied. And tonight was the night to unleash their secrets.

Her slender hands wrapped around the cold neck of a bottle as she picked it up from the cooler. She saw that the only seat open was next to Clint. "Is this spot taken?"

He gestured for her to sit when he lifted his beer bottle.

Around her she heard random conversations, but between Clint and her it was just emptiness. She took a swig from her bottle and took her mind off from the data crunching she did earlier. "Had a good day?"

"Eh. The same old routine." His gaze remained constant on the flames. "You?"

"You know me by now. I'm nowhere near my goal." She took another gulp from her bottle. His defenses were slowly failing either through their mini conversations or from the alcohol.

"I told you from day one." His voice was scruff and firm.

"Yes, you did. I remember." She was tired of beating around the bush and she could sense that Clint was getting impatient with her. He was a hard person to read. In the silence, she started to rub her empty ring finger again, not knowing she was doing it.

"What was his name?" His trap was sprung.

"Hmm?" She looked over towards him. "Kevin." She gazed out into the flames. The swirls of orange highlighted her eyes, "We had a disagreement about a research trip and never really apologized to one another. We were two stubborn idiots." She let out a small smile, "He tried calling from a research outpost one night from a ship off the coast of Australia. It was a bad connection."

Clint tightened his hold on his bottle as he listened to her voice tremble. "You don't have to go further."

"It's alright," she wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "The boat was taking on water and he was calling to say his goodbyes. He even apologized for being a total idiot." She let out a small laugh as a tear rolled down her cheek. "They never did find his body or the wreckage." She stared into the flames, "I visited the site of his last coordinates and tossed his engagement ring into the ocean as a final farewell."

The pair listened to the night sounds as fire unleashed several cracks and hisses. "He must've been one hell of a guy."

"I never talked about him until now." She took a sip from her bottle. "Enough about me." She took a second to pause, "What was her name?" It was a plain and simple question, something she wanted to say at the very beginning.

"Excuse me?" He turned to face her as she finally broke the spell he was under.

"You damn well heard me." Her voice was low and determined at the same time. Several heads turned towards her, as if she stepped on a voodoo topic.

"Well…my…my…the scientist is at work."

"Clint you need to talk to someone." Her doe eyes honed in on his stormy gray eyes. For a moment, the two sat in silence as they each sized each other up.

"How the hell would you know?"

"Tell me why I see you cradling a box in your office. The small box with the lock on it."

He froze in his seat as his hand twisted on his bottle harder. A soft chuckle came from his lips. His trap was working. "You can quit with the charades now. I believe two can play at this game. Walk with me."

The pair rose from their seat and walked down a beaten path. They moved away from earshot of any prying listeners. Bobbi followed behind Clint as he navigated down to the creek bed. "Where are we going?"

"Can you trust me?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Her voice trailed behind him as she walked in the soft dirt with her flip-flops.

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours." His hand held a branch as she walked passed him.

He found a quiet place and sat on edge of the creek bed. The subtle sounds of the water lapped against the edge. "Her name was Natasha. I knew her back in high school when she was just a transfer student. And I fell for her." Bobbi remained quiet as she listened to his story. "And she found my darkest secret…my brother was physically abusive towards me since my parents died. She was the one that bailed me out every time." He took a deep breath and paused for a moment, "One day, she called the cops since things went down badly and I was sent to my grandmother's in Waverly, Iowa. No matter how far apart we were, we always found each other someway."

"I think it sounds romantic if you ask me."

"Everything is not a fairy tale." He leaned forward and stared out into the emptiness. "I first thought I lost her in South America on her mission trip, but thankfully she was safe and sound. And then there was an explosion at the hospital where her father was based at, she was never found. To this day, they still haven't found her but then that's when you come into the picture." His eyes turned towards her.

"What do you mean, I don't know what you're talking about." Her voice became flustered as the conversation changed. She saw Clint's jaw muscle tightened.

"You can't fool me. Stop the marine biologist charade." He tossed his bottle to the ground. "Like I said you tell me yours now." Bobbi stiffened at the tone of his voice. She saw him getting up from his seat and made his way towards her. "Explain to me why you had a picture of _her_ on your desk about a year ago."

…

"What do you want to know?" her voice trailed off into the breeze as she watched the moon rise higher into the black canvas. She was caught in her own game.

"Start anywhere as I try to pick up the pieces." His gaze was fierce as he methodically changed the game.

In truth, there wasn't any good place to start. She has been a wondering a vagabond for the past several years, collecting her data under the cover of a marine biologist. By day she was the scientist, by night, she turned into a lethal hacker and if need be, she was good with firearms and close combat.

"There's a government organization that has been tracking her by the name of S.H.I.E.L.D. She's been affiliated with the Russian government for quite some time now. And I've been sent here as a safeguard."

"Is she still alive?"

"Matter of fact…yes. But she's not the person you fell in love with." Her voice was steady.

"You don't know for sure."

"She tried to wipe out several S.H.I.E.L.D agents out in San Francisco and almost succeeded in doing so. And she almost got away with top secret information as well."

"And what is that?"

"I'm not at the liberty to disclose at this time." She placed her hands on her lap.

"That's bullshit."

"Open your eyes, Barton. The times are changing. It's a whole new game that's being played and you've been a part of it from the beginning."

"Now you're talking nonsense." He eyed her cautiously. "My whole life has been messed up since day one."

"You wanted the truth and now you have it. You might want to talk to your buddy back in Manhattan, Stark. He can fill in the gaps."

"What does he know?" He stressed the last syllables of his question.

"I've already said too much, you need to see him. He'll have the answers."

…

The rain streaked down the windows. It was another dreary day in Manhattan and the playboy genius was not in the mood. Pepper noticed a change in his demeanor and so with the rest of the gang ever since their Sao Paulo trip. There was nothing she could've done except to be by Tony's side. She opened the door to his loft and found the place in such disarray, as she heard him grumble in the corner of his makeshift office.

The waste can started overflowing with wads of rolled up paper. No matter how many times he drew the lines, it didn't come out the way he wanted to. He launched another wad of paper and it bounced off the rim.

"Ditching class I presume?" Pepper walked in with a stash of papers and books. "What ever happened to JARVIS?"

"I disabled him for the time being. He needed a patch after someone tried to hack into the system. And besides, it's college life…what do you expect?" he rubbed his eyes and pretended to work on some physics homework.

The strawberry blonde cleared the papers that were on her side of the desk. "What have been up to?" Her eyes scanned the documents as Tony realized what she was reading. "You haven't been yourself."

"Give those back to me," he reached out as she yanked the papers from his hands.

"What is this?" She squatted his hands away from her and walked in her high heel shoes to the opposite side. "This is not what I think it is," her eyes scanned through the folder.

"Nothing that you should know about." He gave up and leaned across his desk in defeat. "I think I have a headache coming on." Pepper reached over into her purse and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen. "I don't need that," he muttered. "I need something stronger."

She laughed a little, "I don't think so, I think you got some explaining to do, mister."

"You'll have to wait in line, I go first."

The couple whipped around, as Tony was ready to grab his secret weapon underneath his desk. They were shocked to see Clint standing by the doorway. His eyes were bloodshot as if he hadn't slept for days. His face had a faint hint of stubble across his chin.

"Oh crap," Tony muttered.

"It's time that we both have a little heart to heart." The archer walked through the doorway with his retractable bow and quiver at his sides.

Tony pointed to the empty seat across from him.

…

Alexei pulled away from his sleeping wife. Her red curls were splayed about on the pillow. For being master spies, it was rare for them to get any sound sleep for the threat of death loomed above their heads all the time. He watched her breathing as the sheet rose up and down on her chest, exposing the top part of her breasts. He continued to watch over her for a few more moments before he intercepted a call.

"The job has been done. Targets have been eliminated."

"Good Alexei." The other voice on the end held a hint of confidence. "You know what to do next."

"Yes, sir." He held the cellphone between his ear and his shoulder, as he reached out towards his black bag. He rummaged through it until he found the silencer and attached the barrel to the end of his pistol. "It'll be done."

"I knew I could count on you." The line was disconnected.

Alexei closed his cell phone and returned to the sleeping form with his finger on the trigger.

…

**To those who celebrated Thanksgiving, I hope you had a wonderful holiday. And hopefully don't have any battle wounds left from Black Friday. This year I was smart, I stayed home and let my family do the shopping, while I enjoyed the comforts of being warm and toasty in front of a computer typing up a PowerPoint presentation.**

**Thank you to RosalieRowan, UnperfectlyPerfect, and Brandi Golightly for their reviews. And thank you to those who have added this story to their fave lists or story alerts. I'm grateful to all of you.**

**And the plot thickens…what will Tony divulge to Clint? And what is Alexei's mysterious role? Will it be too late for Natasha?**

**Thanks again for reading!**

**Until next time…**


	19. Chapter 19

"Where is she?" The archer's voice was cold and distant, as his grip on his bow tightened. He heard the door to the loft open. Bobbi was drenched from the downpour. Her muted blonde hair was matted down on her shoulders. "I told you stay in the car, woman," he seethed as he launched an arrow at her without turning towards her.

The arrow lodged in the drywall with a thud. "You're being a total jerk about this."

"For a moment, I thought you two were married." Stark ignored their argument. He tossed aside the eraser in his hands and brought up numerous screens in front of the group. His plans for Stark tower had to be put on hold. "Little Red has been very busy." His fingers typed away furiously on the digital keyboard. Numerous images of Natasha as the Black Widow were called up.

Clint couldn't believe what he was seeing. In one clip, he saw her slide between several guards in the San Francisco and took them down. The high school friend he once knew was no longer there. She had died back in Sao Paulo in the fire, where he tried to reach out to her. His gray eyes zoomed onto her chartreuse irises. They held a wicked gleam to them.

Stark continued the stream of damaging images, "She tried hacking into my dad's mainframe computers. Hence JARVIS' demise at the moment."

"Where is she now?"

"I'm getting there." He typed again, "Don't twist your panties into a knot."

Pepper eyed the screens in sheer awe and dumbstruck. Her hands still clutched the folder dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D. "What is this shit?" She hardly ever cursed or swore.

"Long story short, my dear, Pepper. The folder you're holding deals with a contingency plan. I will explain everything."

"You better. I need ibuprofen now." She walked over to her purse to search for the elusive bottle.

Stark called from another computer screen. "Looks like she's in Siberia."

"How did you get involved in the first place?" Clint walked over to the physics genius. His hand never let go of the bow he was carrying in case Bobbi decided to act out again.

"That's for you to find out at a later time." Stark called up several more images, "Your priority is getting her out of there."

"How did she end up in that icebox?"

"Your assassin has been working with Russia. My part has been tracking her ever since she started to work with this fellow." An image of Alexei appeared on the screen. "He has been her handler for some time before marrying her."

"What?" Clint's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Hold it Romeo." He typed away several more screens and flicked through the images to get the timeline straightened. "She's been killing scientists that have been defecting from the Red Room. Her ultimate goal is to keep safe a certain Super Soldier serum. It was the same one that her father worked on."

Bobbi walked up to the trio, "Enough with the chatter," she ripped the folder out from Pepper's hands, "We're wasting time." She threw down the papers on the desk, "S.H.I.E.L.D. has come to realize that the Black Widow is a threat. She needs to be taken down before vital information is leaked."

The former high school friends turned towards the blonde, "You mean elimination?" Clint looked at her. He held his rage for he wanted to slap her across her face.

"That was your contingency plan?" Stark was thrown for the loop. The former tennis champ didn't see that coming and he was duped.

"How could you do that? She's a human being," Pepper's voice was rising in pitch. "You don't know her."

"You shouldn't even be here," Morse eyed the other female.

"For your information, I work with Stark." Pepper finally put her foot down and slapped the blonde across her cheek. "You have some nerve, I'm tired of waiting on the sidelines!"

The playboy genius stifled a laugh when he saw his girlfriend slap the blonde. "You have overstayed, Mockingbird. Get out of my loft," Stark wished he had JARVIS online. The AI would've given the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent a run for her money.

"That's enough, Agent Morse. Stand down." Phil entered the loft to break the argument.

"Aren't you supposed to be playing in the sandbox?" Stark looked up at the man. "This day keeps getting weirder." He leaned back into his chair, "The next thing will be a Jolly Green Giant creating havoc."

"Don't push your luck, Stark." Agent Coulson walked towards them. "There is an advance directive to eliminate Natasha."

"When did S.H.I.E.L.D exist?" Barton was leaning against the wall and looked towards the door to see if anyone else would come out of the woodwork.

"I'm sure Agent Morse has provided you the minimal details about the organization. Director Fury has been watching the entire group. To sum things up, you all have some qualities that may potentially be of use."

"Why eliminate the Black Widow?" Barton countered the older agent's statements.

"She is becoming a lethal threat to security."

"Is that so?" He crossed his arms. "Did it ever occur to you imbeciles that she may be of use?"

"She's been brainwashed to kill. The Red Room's training is highly effective."

"To hell with this." The archer was tired of the games that everyone was playing. The pussyfooting was enough to drive him mad. "She's stronger than that."

"I'm warning you, Barton. Stay out of this. There are field agents ready to take her out." Coulson walked in front of him. "If you get in their way, they'll take you down."

"I'm in too deep now." He glared at Coulson and challenged him. "And what are _you _going to do about it?" Coulson was about to whip out his taser from his black suit. The metallic object landed on the floor with a thud, as the agent nursed his bruised wrist. "Send me those coordinates, Stark."

…

Ivan looked out from his window. The snowfall carried deception in the air. It was a strange weather anomaly to have the pristine white fall from the heavens at this time of year.

The master spy couldn't shake away the feeling that weighed on his chest. For weeks, he saw the writing on the walls. The whispers were challenging his authority. The program that he had brought up from the ashes was starting to morph in something far more sinister than he could've predicted. It had been weeks since the Black Widow made her last contact with him. And to make matters worse, Alexei had completely cut him off.

He slowly was losing his connections…one after another. He was like a chess piece in this game of spy craft. And now, he realized he was no longer needed.

He did have one more final card up in his sleeve. A failsafe that he had devised years ago without anyone knowing that it had existed. To say the least, it was his last laugh.

The Red Room was nearly empty. The last of the training sessions were held a week prior. Only a few ancillary staff remained and he ordered the last of them to leave without giving out a reason before erasing their minds with a serum of his own creation.

"Why is it so gloomy here, old man?"

Ivan sipped on the last of his black coffee that was laced with vodka and amaretto liqueur. "Has the prodigal son returned?" His voice echoed through the hallow walls. "Where's the Black Widow?"

"She's where she's supposed to be." Alexei stood in the doorway, eyeing his former mentor.

He placed the porcelain cup down back on the saucer. "She was my star pupil."

The two spies countered each other with their weapons respectively. Alexei held out his Glock in front of him, while Ivan matched his own.

The coy smile was plastered across his former pupil's face. "That's the thrill of it all. The Grandmaster always changes. Now it's time…"

Before Alexei could finish his sentence, a bullet found his way through his heart. The formidable agent fell backwards against the walls, looking up in shock and defiance as to how the old man still had it in him.

"You never did learn your lesson, Alexei." The old man walked away from him before roughly slamming the door after him.

The frozen crystals crunched against his heavy boots. It was now or never. With a single push of the button, a rumble was heard in the distance as the home he had built was gone in an instant. The implosion sent a cloud of black smoke rushing upward in the frigid air. The Red Room's secrets were now forever buried in the frozen tundra.

…

Clint threw the file onto the empty seat next to him. It still hadn't sunk in yet. In the past 24 hours, his world was changed once again. And now five hours deep into a ten-hour flight, he was getting closer to her again. He lost her twice and he'll make sure to keep her this time. It was now his turn to return the favor.

He felt the grittiness underneath his eyelids, as he rubbed them. Slowly, he let sleep take over with the constant hum radiating from the engines. Soon enough, he was going to find her and defy the odds.

…

Natasha kept her distance as she made her way down the narrow sidewalk. She tightened her lilac scarf around her porcelain neck. She was miffed at her husband for abandoning her at the cabin. There was no note when she awoken from her slumber. She only found the tousled sheets that were the only proof that he left behind.

Her black heels clicked against the cobblestone walkway. The clock tower chimed in the half hour at the town square. She took her seat at a small coffee shop that Alexei had promised to meet her. Couples surrounded her with their random chatter.

She concealed her instinct to kill as she people-watched from her seat. It was strange to be back on her homeland. She could feel her Russian blood course through her veins.

She didn't know how long she waited for him as she could see the sun was changing its position in the open sky. The yellow rays changed the shadows against the rooftops and eventually a fiery orange took hold of the square.

_Something must've happened._

Her eyes scanned the crowds but she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. She picked up her black bag and adjusted the strap around her tan knee length coat. It was getting late and there was no use in waiting for Alexei. Deep down in her gut, she knew her husband wasn't coming back.

The red head walked over a bridge in the early evening. Winter's spell was finally letting go of the area. She looked down at the rippling waters of the Ob River. Her reflection was distorted against the current, but through the waves, the image of the Black Widow was all she could see.

Footsteps came behind her and she could hear the small click of a loaded weapon. She spun on her heels and took her scarf that was wrapped around her neck. Immediately, she tied the fabric around the disguised agent's hands and threatened to toss him to the frigid waters below. "Who are working for?" she hissed back.

The agent resisted against her choke hold, "S.H.I.E.L.D."

She knocked him out with her right hook and untied the poor soul. She sent his body into the river below.

A female's voice escaped from the remaining earpiece, "Status report…"

Natasha smashed the useless object against the rocky wall and tossed the remnants into the water. The red head was more annoyed than ever that she had a tail of agents on her now. Her mistake from San Francisco still carried the repercussions to this day.

She quickened her pace down on the sidewalk. No place was safe. Even with one agent, there was bound to be more. She turned around the corner and headed back to a safe house that Alexei had mentioned to her on one of their missions.

Her heels clicked against the stones in a frantic pace. She was running out of time. She turned around another corner and she couldn't believe her eyes. Maria Hill was standing a mere twenty feet in front of her. Her brunette hair was tied in a neat bun. Her gun was pointed at her and she fired away.

The bullet pierced her right shoulder as distant memories started to sink in.

"Die Black Widow." Her voice was clear. There was no hint of familiarity in her tone.

Natasha dodged the fury of bullets with a series of flips as she ran towards the agent. She dropped kicked Maria and went after the pistol in her hands. The brunette had a death grip on the weapon, as she unleashed a round of punches at her abdomen.

The master assassin clenched her teeth and shoved her against a concrete wall. Maria let out a scream. The collision knocked the pistol out of the agent's hand. She pistol-whipped the brunette and saw her fall to the ground with a streak of blood coming from her right temple. Memories from Sao Paulo and their conversation were starting to come back to life. She could feel her head was going to explode as more images swirled about.

_What's happening…_

She held herself up against the wall as her mind streamed pictures of faces that she once knew.

Another bullet whizzed by her as she fired back. A stifled scream was heard as a body from a balcony landed with a thud on the cobblestone.

_Could this day get any worse?_

Her left hand instinctively ghosted across her right shoulder. A streak of crimson started to seep through her coat. She barely noticed it but the red laser was crawling on her jacket. "Crap," she muttered.

"Nat, drop the gun." Clint held out an arrow in his grip as he finally caught up to her.

The voice was familiar, but she couldn't piece everything together. Fear struck her heart as she felt her premonition come to life. The instinct to kill him was strong and she charged at him.

He quickly saw a red blur of curls come his way and he punched a button. The arrow's tip was narrowed and a trace of liquid dripped to the ground. "Don't make me do this, Nat." He felt the arrow launch and it struck her in the injured shoulder. Instead of the effect he wanted, she lunged at him with full force knocking the both of them to the ground. She yanked out the shaft and tossed the useless arrow aside.

She pulled out her Widow's Bite. The blue sparks were in front of his face and he felt a jolt when his hand connected with hers. "Damn, Nat."

"Stop calling me that," she growled and knelt in a crouching position with her leg extended.

The two continued their spar in the abandon alley. He grabbed a fistful of her fiery hair in hopes to subdue her. His grip wasn't as strong after being hit, but she was slowing down. Maybe it was working.

"Who the hell are you supposed to be?" Her jade eyes flickered in and out of focus.

"I'm Barton." He was gasping for air as she struggled against him. "It's me." Worry flashed across his features.

She slipped out of his hold and jumped against a wall, grabbing a hold of a fire escape ladder and swung around. Clint countered with his bow, striking her at her side, as she twisted midair. He used his bow and hooked onto to her, entrapping her with the string.

"You might as well kill me," she still struggled against him.

"And why would I do that?" For a moment, she froze in his arms. Her emerald eyes were locked on his stormy gray eyes. Flashes of her former life began to breakthrough. There was one image of him underneath their red maple. He was grinning at her for no apparent reason. "I hate to do this, Tash." He pulled out a small vile and covered her mouth his hand. Slowly, he watched her fall asleep in his arms.

"Clint?"

He retracted his bow and placed it in his bag. He carried her lithe body in the darkness. In the distance, he could see the Alexander Nevsky Cathedral glowing with his amber lights outlining its ancient stonewalls. Its golden dome pointed upwards to the night sky.

"Status report, Barton…" Phil's voice rang out. He took out the nearly invisible device from his ear and obliterated it against the ground.

"It's time to go home," he whispered into her ear. He shifted her in his arms, as he continued to walk by the railroad tracks. A low rumbling was heard as a train slowed down, its metallic wheels screeching with silver sparks flying about.

…

**The master assassins are finally REUNITED! Bonus points to who can guess what city they're in…**

**Thank you to all of you for sticking out this long. Thank you to those who have added this story to their faves and story alerts. Keep the reviews coming, I greatly appreciate them. **

**And yes, I still have SNL on my DVR – Jeremy Renner sure can sing. **

**Brandi – I hope I didn't disappoint you. I know you've been asking for a Blackhawk reunion since chapter 14. **

**Lollypops101 – I never did read the comics either, but Google and Wikipedia have been my greatest resources after doing some cross-referencing. **

**Let's Cry Over Sad Songs – Thanks for your review! I usually use something from the introductory chapter to setup the story summary.**

**RosalieRowan – I took your recommendation. And yes, I did obliged to your second request as well. **

**UnperfectlyPerfect – How did you like the plot twist? I can't hurt Clintasha. They've been through enough already.**

**Until next time! **


	20. Chapter 20

Chipped walls greeted her when her vision adjusted to her new surroundings. Out of habit, her hands ghosted underneath the pillow and were left empty-handed. She shoved aside the covers and felt something restricting her right shoulder. Several gauzes were tied down with tape. She peeled back the cotton pieces and revealed a faint scar over her pale skin. The serum was working still.

The room was barely visible in the early light. Someone had made great lengths to bring her. Her toes met the cold floorboards and the squeaks shattered the silence. She reached out to a robe that was draped across the armchair as she found herself wearing only her undergarments. Her secret weapon cache that was on her black garter was gone.

The Russian spy left the security of the room as she explored her surroundings. She pried at every opening, hoping to find one window or door she could open, but all the exits were sealed tight. From the windows, she saw open fields of scrawny green plants breaking through the soil.

She descended down the stairs and wandered about the house. The kitchen was devoid of life. There were hardly any dishes in the sink's basin and the cupboards were empty. She searched through the drawers and was met with resistance from one. She figured it contained the sharp objects she was hoping to find. She went over to the coffee maker and it was bone dry, which was an ultimate sin in her book.

The birch scratched against the weary floorboards as she took a seat at the table. Streams of dust kicked up into the stale air. She amused herself by watching the particles drift off from the ground. It was the dead silence that drove her to the brink of insanity as a carousel of memories flashed in her mind…from her gymnastics training to the Red Room with Irina. None of it made sense. Everything was disjointed. The fine lines of reality were blurred and she needed to tease out the lies. But what were they? Did they start with her parents or with Ivan?

There was some shuffling in the hallway, more like a patter of footsteps. An orange cat slowly made his way into the kitchen. His arthritic knees were limiting his movements as he strolled into the room, hoping the red headed newcomer would feed him.

Natasha ignored the creature's meows and looked out the window instead. "We're both prisoners here," she muttered. The orange tabby continued his stroll and proved her wrong as he wedged himself through the pet door that lead to the backyard, "Or not," she called after him.

She was alone again. Her fingers traced the grain on the table as she pretended to connect them with an imaginary line. She heard the faintest sound of a key twisting in the lock and she looked towards the sound.

Clint had a bag of groceries in his arms. "You're up."

"Thanks to you, I don't have any coffee." She sat in her seat with an annoyed look without offering him any formalities. Her hair was twisted in curls and strays.

"Same as ever," he let out a hearty laugh. It was as if she had never left him from their high school days it seemed. Deep in his mind, he wondered how much damage he'd have to undue before she became the cold, calculated assassin and master spy.

"Where are we?"

"State side – in good old Iowa," he chuckled.

"Heh?"

"Iowa…Waverly." He looked at her to see if she was picking up the pieces. She rubbed her temple in frustration. "It's alright." He let out a sigh, relieved that she was there with him in the flesh to say the least.

"Why did you save me back there?" She leaned closer to the table after Clint offered her a cup of coffee. The scent of cinnamon and hazelnut filled the confines. She neglected the hot drink at first while she traced circles on the table, trying to make sense of everything.

"I don't know how much you remember," he blankly stated, his voice was tired and stressed. "You saved me once before." He stood in front of her from the opposite side of the table, "S.H.I.E.L.D. wanted to kill you, but I didn't." He tossed several pieces of smashed tracking devices on the table.

She took in a deep breath, as a mixture of fear and trepidation flashed in her green eyes. "I don't know who to believe," her voice barely above a whisper. "There's so much red…"

Clint didn't say any more words. Instead, he sat in front of her as they both drank in the silence. He reached out to her chilled hands, taking them in his own. Years of practice with archery skills had left his skin chaffed, while compared to hers, they were still supple with slender fingers. To her, she could see the invisible ruby liquid still on her hands and she couldn't wash it away.

He traced invisible lines on her palms, calming her down.

"How can you still trust me?"

He squeezed her hands in response, "We'll find a way."

…

Days slowly turned over on the farm. The respite from the world was what she needed. Away from the world of darkness and lies, where fear had lurked in the corners. She watched from her bedroom window, the rolling fields morphing. The once scrawny corn crops grew taller and eventually towered seven to eight feet with silk stalks.

She nailed down Clint's routine. In the morning, he woke up before sunrise and shot his arrows in the sprawling fields. Sometimes, the mist and fog covered him, but he never did miss. She stood by the doorway to watch him at times, his arm muscles taut as he tensed his bow to its will.

By the afternoon, they shared lunch together. Cold cut sandwiches to salads. Never exchanging words unless needed. And he then headed out to the fields, to clear any weeds that popped up for the local neighbors. Occasionally, he disappeared into town to grab some supplies and returned by nightfall. By then, Natasha had some dinner on the table for him. Never did he check her meals and she noted that gesture. He trusted her still while keeping within his own boundaries.

She thought about running away from this place several times, but where would she go. She had no more connections from the Red Room. Would S.H.I.E.L.D. agents track her? The instinct to kill was fading, and yet at times, she felt the urge to kill Clint, especially after the nights where her nightmare would return. She concealed those feelings well from him, even though his bow and quiver were always within an arm's reach.

…

One night, they both sat on the back porch. Fireflies danced about the lantern they had. In the distance storm clouds clung to the rolling hills with flashes of lightning highlighting the towering veils.

Clint was staring off somewhere, lost in his own thoughts. The summer had tanned his skin but he remained fixated on Mother Nature's fury.

"I'm going to sleep. Good night." Natasha rose from her seat and grabbed his shoulder before slipping behind the screen door. She walked up the creaking staircase and the stifling air followed her. The curtains were parted in her bedroom as the summer air swirled about. The storm was coming and she could hear the low rumble make its way towards the weathered farmhouse. The screen door slammed and Clint was somewhere downstairs she supposed.

She stepped into the shower and felt the cold spray run down against her skin. The summer heat dissipated slightly as the room cooled. She wanted to tell him everything, but she was afraid to. All this time, she was waiting for the right moment but she couldn't come to it. Maybe he already knew and he was waiting for her to finally realize it herself to unleash her secrets of her dark side.

She splashed cold water on her face before reaching out for her towel. She donned on a sage colored camisole and shorts, and watched the impending storm rake over the land by her window. With its increasing lightning, she decided to turn down the lights. In the darkness, she stripped her bed down to the bare minimum sheets. Above her, she watched the ceiling fan's blades slice through the hot air. She followed one wooden blade with her eyes and watched it spin in revolution, hypnotizing her to slip into her dreamland.

_The dimmed hallways were cold. An orange glow erupted from one end of the wing. The ground shook underneath her and she felt somebody pulling her along. Ceiling tiles fell on her shoulders while she ran. _

"_Come on," the voice shouted at her._

_Another explosion rocked the area and she was torn from him. She watched in horror to see his body collide with the wall with sickening sound of cracked bones. And yet, he remained fixated on her. His stormy eyes found her through the smoke. "Natasha," he yelled back with his hands reaching towards her. _

_The scene morphed into a sterile environment with halogen lights that blinded her. She overlooked from the corner, being an invisible third person. The room was empty but the steel door swung open with a clang against the wall. _

_A red headed woman was brought in handcuffs and she tried to fight off the guards. One of them slapped her cheek and she submitted once her body connected with the wall, her fighting spirit was slowly breaking down. In one more act of defiance, she spat the blood back at the guard. _

"_Perfect the serum or she dies…" A gun was pointed at the young woman. _

_A scientist with his white lab coat stared in terror with a vile shaking in his trembling hands. _

"_We know she's carrying your child." A hand grabbed onto the flaming red strands and a scream was heard. _

_Natasha looked on in horror, "Mom…Dad…" _

She tossed and turned in her sleep as the dream changed again.

_The frosted windows seeped some daylight through. A candle was holding onto dear life as the wick came closer to the bottom. The amber glow was nearly dead. Her eyes searched the surroundings but no one was there except for her. _

_The winds raged outdoors, rattling the shutters as she traversed to the opposite side. A snowstorm had taken hold of the area. "Alexei," she murmured. _

_The door opened with a gust of wind, killing the flame instantly. The room was pitch black until the hearth was reignited. Ribbons of orange and red roared by the fireplace. _

_Alexei stepped out from the flames. His shirt stained with a gunshot over his heart, while his face was jagged with a scar over his cheeks. "Your ledger is dripping red." His voice filled with hatred and anger, as his fierce body walked to where she stood. She backed against the wall. With the snap of his fingers, flickers of heat and fire came to life. "Innocent lives are dead because of you." His charred hands reached for her and encircled them around her neck. She felt his bones dug deeper into her flesh. _

_Her field of vision faded in and out, as Alexei kept his pressure. Her hands clawed at his arms, tearing away the loose tissue but he wouldn't relent. "Ale...xei," her broken syllables were faint against the hissing and snapping. _

"_You will die." _

_The ceiling started to cave in. She made one last ditch effort to escape from his grasp. _

"_No!" she saw the faces of the ones that she killed before come at her. _

Outside, the rain pelted against the windows. The rumbles intensified as another lightning bolt streaked across. Clint leaned against his headboard, counting the number of seconds before the thunder shook his bed. Less than five seconds, a crack was heard and shook everything in his room. He could've sworn that the old maple out back had finally met its demise.

Across the hallway, a scream came from her room and he made a dash to her. It was empty with the bed sheets soaked down to the mattress. "Shit," he muttered. Without seconds to lose, he chased after her. "Natasha!" The winds howled and the sirens began to wail. The lightning casted shadows throughout the corridor, and he made his way to the kitchen, nearly tripping over the orange feline again, who was sprawled over a rug. It dawned on him that he had neglected to bolt the backdoor. He punched the screen door aside and ran out into the maelstrom.

"Natasha! Where are you?" He screamed against the piercing needles. "Answer me!" He shouted as lightning streaked above him and landed a mile away. "Tasha!" He surveyed the area and puddles started to become like ponds on the muddy ground. Her footsteps washed away. "Natasha!" he screamed against the gusts.

He searched again until he saw some movement 20 yards from him by the shed. He ran towards it, ignoring the sirens. He saw one of the doors was jarred open. "Natasha," his voice loomed over the cacophony. His ears strained against all the noises, but he heard muffled cries coming from within. "Nat, are you in here?" The cries were intermittent and he followed them.

His eyes found the lithe figure sitting down by a bale of hay. She had her hands wrapped around her knees. Her green eyes glowed with fear and dread. "I can't make it stop," she whispered. Clint knelt down beside her with his bare shoulder brushing against her own. "Why did this happen?" Her voice was distant. "What did we do to deserve this?"

"Beats me," he picked at a strand of hay with his fingers. He felt water drip from his matted hair down his chest. In his haste in chasing after her, he was only dressed in his boxers.

"My parents and Ivan fed so many lies." Her eyes remained fixated on some dark corner. "And the Red Room," she bristled against the name of it. Clint saw her reaction and remained silent. "The mental and physical abuse to some…" he reached out to her hands. "I never told you this," she paused as her body trembled at the mere thought that her nightmare can still become reality, "they took our friendship and made me believe you would kill me over and over again." She listened to the hail that pinged against the roof. "I have that nightmare often than you think…I've been keeping my distance."

"You're stronger than them," he stared back, "You're better than them, Nat."

"I'm not," her voice was despondent and she was falling back into the pit. "I've become one of them."

Lightning flashed against the windows and the rain intensified in its second wave. It was now or never. Clint slapped her against her cheek, hoping to knock some sense back into her. "Damn it, you're a fighter, Nat, ever since I met you. You've been one," he yelled at her, shaking her roughly. He knew he was this close to setting her free from the mind games. There was one more thing left to do. He wanted to do this for so long ever since the time back in Sao Paulo. His massive form leaned in and kissed her. The minute their lips met, she resisted as she tried to tear away from his grasp, but he held onto her.

Her mind fought against another round of images that found their way back to her conscious mind. They were now images of Clint and only of him. From their sparring matches to their conversations at the coffee house, and even to the time they both danced in her family room. And then, there was one other memory. She hid behind the blue curtains in her bedroom. From their security, she watched her best friend leave. She had defied his orders. No matter what, she knew he was the best thing in her life.

She inhaled his breath and felt his arms wrap tighter against her. Clarity returned back to her world and her emerald eyes flashed open to a thunderous boom. She watched him open his gray eyes and saw the familiarity before the madness began. She wrapped her own arms around him, bringing him closer to her chest. For once, she felt safe again. She listened to his own beating heart and stayed their for a while, drinking in the moment.

The wailing sirens died and the storm marched eastward, bringing the needed rain to the fields in its course. Clint lifted Natasha back onto her feet. That midnight, he watched her fall asleep in his arms as he kept a candle lighted on the nightstand. He was thankful that she finally _returned_ back to him. And he remembered that one deal he made with God, that he would give anything to get her back. It was finally coming full circle.

…

**Thank you for reading. And thank you to those who have added this story to their fave lists or story alerts! **

**_Now comes the official winter season finale_. Don't worry, there will be more Clintasha and the rest of the Avengers too. **

**I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday season and a Happy New Year! May 2013 bring new adventures to all of you, my dear readers. **

**The answer to the last chapter is not Budapest or Estonia...sorry. Good guesses though…it's actually Novosibirsk. I may have added a few embellishments here and there. **

**Thank you to my reviewers: Brandi Golightly, Lollypops101, XxTheXBlindXBanditxX, Rayne – Ashley West, FinallyFallingAllOverAgain, SunnyBunnylove77, and Sallyc2. **

**Leave a review and let me know what you think. Thank you. **

**Stay tuned! **


	21. Chapter 21

The morning glow seeped through the cracked window. He stretched lazily, not wanting to get up. His arm felt light as he recalled the events from last night. The dreaded feeling crept back into his conscience.

_Here we go again_.

He opened his eyes and readied himself. To his amazement, he found her on the opposite end, lying on her side with her arm draping over the edge. Her curls were strewn about on the pillow. The last time he saw her like this was back in Sao Paulo. He shifted his weight and waited to see her reaction. She was always a light sleeper.

"Nat," he whispered, testing the waters to see if she would jump at him. "It's morning." She hugged her pillow even tighter.

Thinking the coast was clear, he was about to start his normal routine by reaching over towards his quiver, "Don't you dare move," her eyes were closed.

"How did you know?" He propped himself against the headboard, ignoring her commands.

"My little secret," she continued to lie on her side, mumbling something incoherent into the pillow.

"Don't you want your coffee?" He raised an eyebrow to gauge her reaction. Silence fell between them as he waited for her answer. "I guess not," he laid back down, wondering what other skills she had picked up from her training.

She shifted onto her other side and faced him. "Just let me sleep," she mumbled with her eyes still closed.

"A few more minutes, but we then need to talk."

…

_The armored jeep clamored its way up on the steep hillside. The world of muted beige and red passed in a flash, as he kept a tight hold by the window. His pilot glasses reflected a world he hadn't seen much except on news reports. The wheels drifted downward into a pothole and he braced himself. He grinned at the soldier who sat across from him. "At ease soldier," he adjusted his silk tie, while continuing to look out from his seat. _

_The entourage came to a halt. Tony looked around, "Why are we stopping?"  
_

"_Stay in the jeep," the soldier commanded. _

_Tony whipped out his cell, only to find no signal. A whistling sound came overhead and ignited two vehicles in front of his. He dove underneath the seats to diminish the impact, but he could hear explosions ramping up from both sides. The bullets pierced through the thick metal and ricocheted in the cabin with pings. He slipped through a back door and found a body lying at the side. He stole the gun and crawled on his elbows, sliding over the dirt only to be caught in more blasts that threw rocks above him. _

_There was a nagging pain in his chest, as he continued to crawl over the jagged terrain. His fingers went down across his chest and brought back the red liquid mixed with sand and dirt. He flipped himself over and tore away at his shirt. His bulletproof vest was no match for the bullets and shrapnel. _

Tony bolted up in his bed. Sweat dotted his forehead and his favorite t-shirt was soaked in the moisture as well. His hands automatically went over to his heart and felt nothing was out of the ordinary except for a galloping heart rate. The physics genius never remembered ever having a vivid nightmare as this one.

Pepper felt the covers shift more towards her side and she got up, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. "What's wrong?" She became alarmed to see her boyfriend act this way.

"Go back to sleep, Pepper. It was nothing."

"Are you sure?" She didn't move from her spot. "We can cancel the expo."

"I can handle it, Virginia," his voice was strained.

Pepper froze. Tony hardly used her first name, and if he ever did, it was something he didn't want to talk about it. "I'm going to the kitchen, you can find me there."

He heard her footsteps disappear in the massive hotel room. He sat slumped over on his side of the bed and tried to shake some sense back into him. "JARVIS, status update."

The British accent came alive, "No new hits. Searching sectors five and six."

"Any updates on Agent Barton and the Black Widow?"

"Not at this moment." The AI finished his command.

Tony went over his temporary workstation. Papers littered everywhere with his pencil sketches. Over in one corner, he was working on a project that Fury was very interested in. The science genius flipped on the switch and reflected the halogen light off the mirror. In seconds, the mirror was gone. He flipped the switch on and off, making sure there weren't any subtle defects. For months, he was perfecting this newfound technology. He was in striking distance for his doctorate.

He set aside the new gadget and decided to make peace with his girlfriend. Pepper sat at the kitchen island, nursing a cup of tea. He felt the knot already forming in the back of his throat. Making apologies was never his strong suit and will never be. He cleared his throat, alerting her that he was in the vicinity.

Pepper continued to sip from her cup, as she flicked several fingers across the screen. "I'm going over your presentation for this morning." Her voice was straight to the point.

By the tone in her voice, Tony knew he was in big trouble. He reached into the cupboards and pulled out a small glass. He fished for some hard liquor in the area and found it in the form of brandy. He downed a glass and felt it burn in his throat. "I've been a total jerk," he blurted out, hoping his drink would knock some sense back into him.

"Really?" The strawberry blonde typed away, still ignoring him. "Is that so?"

"Completely." He played with the glass in his hands, watching the amber liquid swirl.

Pepper continued her typing as she brought up the images for his presentation to the masses in a few more hours. The graphics were splayed out, while Tony stared at it.

_This will be yours one day_. His father's voice eerily haunted him from that day when the two had their conversation in his hidden study. The day he found out about the secret project that his father was working on with Nick Fury. Never in his wildest dreams did he think that day would come, but it did. The only evidence his father left was encrypted in JARVIS and a trunk of blueprints.

He swiped at the image, making it spin on the table before the pair. "What do you think you're doing?" Pepper looked at him with an annoyed look.

"Sorry, I just wanted a better angle," he smirked.

"Whatever you say, Boss." For a flickering second, she forgot their argument. Tony saw the small switch in her and his charms were working again.

"There's that smile I know."

"Don't push your luck, mister." She swiped at a different view, "I should at least get some recognition."

"10%."

"We need to work on that," she collapsed the tablet as the screen dwindled. "You're going to sleep on the couch for the rest of this trip," she poked a finger over his chest. "You can count on that." She turned on her slippers, "And I don't need to see your face plastered across tabloids either."

Again, the so-called playboy genius was beside himself once more. He downed the rest of the amber liquid and shook his head. It was going to be a _very_ long day for him.

…

He thumbed through the massive organic chemistry book, looking for reactions against breaking double bonds. _I'm never going to understand this stuff._ The idea of being pre-med sounded a great idea at the start, but now he feared that the carbon molecules and substitution reactions would be the death of him. How could his professor determine the final grades based on one final exam…60%. _Ouch. _But then again, he had a conspiracy theory that the class was meant to weed out the competition and that _only_ the determined will survive.

Thor tossed aside a model of carbons, and looked out the window. The former tennis champ wondered how life flashed forward and never stopped. Growing up, he bounced from foster homes until he found one family that was the perfect fit for him and for his voracious appetite. He never told anyone of his past and that it was fuzzy for him. There was always one thing nagging his mind…_he belonged somewhere else_.

He heard the front door click. "I'm home, Blake."

_Uh oh_. She never called him by his actual name. There was something she was up to. He downed the last of her home baked brownies before calling her, "I'm in the kitchen," he belted out. The petite brunette stepped in and hung up her blue jacket by the door. "How's your day been?"

"You wouldn't believe it," her eyes were glowing.

"What?" He wiped the corner of his mouth to destroy the chocolate evidence, as he hid the plate underneath the tabletop.

"I'm changing majors."

His eyes flashed some confusion, "Hold it…are you sure?"

"Positively." She walked over to the sink and filled a glass of water. "You know what they say…the average college student will change their major at least three times."

"You're doing it only once," he laughed. "What happened to pre-nursing?"

"I think I have more passion to study the stars." Thor walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her, "You're not mad at me? I know we both wanted to be in the medical field."

"No, I'm not." He leaned closer into her shoulder, "I just want you to be happy." His voice was low and gentle.

"I work in the lab tonight. Do you want to swing by later?"

"Sure." He watched her steps and they had a spring to them this time. He went back to the table and saw his work in progress at the reaction maps. He pulled out his black bag and took out a velvet box. It was a simple ring he had picked out a month earlier. The princess cut jewel sat on a slender white gold band. The ring itself reminded him of Jane and her ambitions. And now, if he only had the guts to tell her how he felt. A shadow was casted over the pristine gem as he closed the lid.

…

The fallen agents found each other at the local bar after their duties were finished. With the months that spanned from their failed missions, they wondered if the Director was going to throw the book at the both of them. So far, the pink slips didn't appear in their inboxes.

"I see that your handler duties, aren't going well yet."

"It takes time, I think he'll come around eventually." Phil took a handful of peanuts and cracked away the shells. "How are you holding up?"

"Feeling miserable."

"You do have to admit that the Black Widow had the upper hand."

She shot him a dirty look and remained silent. She hardly was ever beaten by anyone in her sparring matches. She watched her partner empty out the container and add to his remaining pyramid of peanut shells.

"I best be on my way. I'm supposed to meet a new scientist. There might be a new hotspot in the sandbox." Agent Coulson rose from his seat and walked out the exit.

Voices surrounded her in the low ambience as the usual customers grabbed their 5 o'clock drinks. If anyone stared her way, she stared them down with her eyes. Her thoughts ran back to her mission failures. She could never really tell if Fury was angry at her for losing the Black Widow. The only punishment that she had was the massive paper trail that she had to fill out. Never again will she let her guard down with any other missions. She had learned her lesson. And now, she was waiting in the wings, hoping that her next assignment will come soon. She was tired of the shooting range. The pointless chatter and the lack of excitement were getting to her. She was meant for fieldwork, but not sit behind a desk and track movements of their enemies.

_Maybe the third time is the charm. _

She was about to get up from her seat when a new stranger walked into the low-key bar. His face was weathered and his hair was becoming grayed. By his accent, he wasn't a local. There was something that drew her to him, and that sixth sense of hers was telling her to not leave. His face was familiar but where did she see him?

"Is this seat taken?" The voice was deep and absolute.

Maria pointed at the man and it slowly clicked into her. She couldn't believe her eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm technically a ghost." His accent was evident. "We both need something from each other."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was at a lost for words, "What are you talking about?"

"I can help strengthen your program."

The statement was simple. Maria knew that Fury was in a quest to acquire a certain team. "What do you want in exchange?"

"Anonymity and asylum. What say you, Agent Hill?" The ex-spy waited for a response with a gleam of his eyes.

"I think Directory Fury might be interested." Her reply was the answer she was looking for all this time. She was back in the game.

…

Nick Fury stood over the balcony, overlooking the masses as they constructed the skeleton of the massive helicarrier. In its mere infancy, it was a sight to behold as the workers alternated in shifts in creating the ship. The four engines were nearly completed with their spinning turbines. His dream was becoming reality, but there were other hurdles he would have to face before his ship can take to the skies.

"Sir, if I may have a word?" Maria walked up from behind him.

"What is it, Maria?" He turned around to face her.

"I received news from Agent Coulson that there is more activity coming the desert."

"Indeed that is good news."

"And there is one more thing…" She paused to see how her boss would react. "We also acquired a defector. He is requesting asylum in return for his information."

"Who could that be?" Nick Fury was suddenly interested in this turn of events, as he looked at his watch.

"Ivan Petrovitch."

The ex-war hero left his perch and walked down towards the interrogation room. His heavy footsteps fell against the metal flooring, as his right-hand woman trailed behind him. "When did he arrive?"

"Two hours ago." She continued her pace with her boss, "And there's something that he can do to help your program."

Fury pushed aside the metal door, as he saw ex-Red Room leader sitting in a chair. He was smoking one small cigar. "Director Fury I presume," he let out a puff of smoke.

"Mr. Petrovitch." He pulled up a chair as it grated against the concrete. "Enough with the formalities." He watched the old man sneak in a smile. "What are you bringing to the table? I run a tight schedule and I don't want to be late for my next engagement."

The Russian smiled as he tapped the ashes into a clear tray. "I know your secrets, Director. And I know you're looking to perfect a Super Soldier serum." The master spy waited for his counterpart's next move.

…

Natasha walked passed Clint's shooting range filled with pitted posts, and eventually walked into the enveloping green fields. Sooner or later, she knew she would have to face her demons, but she thought she would have more time. Her hands clutched at the folder Clint had given her.

_Some talk._

It was a whirlwind for her and now she knew what her true numbers were. The feeling sickened her, but there was nothing she could do to erase it. It was a part of her and of what she had become…the Black Widow.

She walked deeper in the field, trying to catch her breath as her mind processed the facts and images once more. Her eyes stumbled upon a small pond camouflaged by reeds and grasses. The sun dipped lower in the horizon line and casted orange beams that skipped off the surface.

Her fingers hovered above the stack of papers in the folder. One by one, the sound of paper being torn was mixed with the buzzes from the dragonflies and cicadas that flew about. The confetti of random words filled with names, places, and images collided with the clear water.

She stood there and watched the pieces drift deeper into the liquid until she heard footsteps coming from behind. "She died long ago…you should stop looking for her." She turned on her heels and saw Clint holding a bag in his hands. She tucked a loose strand of her fiery hair that cascaded onto her cheek behind her right ear.

"I know." He pulled out her black catsuit along with her Widow's Bite. "This belongs to you."

Her fingers traced over the light material until she found the zipper.

"Ready for a second rodeo?"

She grabbed her Widow's Bite and donned it on over her wrists. The blue lights activated. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." The archer disappeared into the cornfield as she chased after him.

…

**Okay, I couldn't stay away from updating. Here's my belated holiday gift to all of you. Thanks for reading, and adding this to your fave or story alerts! **

**So where is Clint taking Natasha now? And what is Ivan up to? **

**Brandi – Don't worry there will be more Clintasha fluff and their partnership will unfold later. **

**musik577 – Thank you for your comments, I greatly appreciate it. There will be more references from the movie in later chapters. **

**I'm signing off for a while. This chickadee has real work to do. Leave a review and let me know what you think. Add Budapest or not? And to my loyal readers, I will be sending out a special snippet when the time comes. Thanks again, everyone! **


	22. Chapter 22

Fury gazed over the documents that Ivan had written. His handwriting had narrowed strokes that covered the page from top to bottom. Years of intelligence and details specific to the Red Room were right before his one good eye. The S.H.I.E.L.D. Director couldn't believe it, but in his hands was the smoking gun that he needed to jumpstart the one thing he was missing.

He leaned into his seat further, pondering his next move. "Get me Agent Carter." His voice was low.

"She's not in her office currently. Can I take a message?"

"No," he said curtly. "Someone find her."

…

The hum of the engine was steady as he coasted across the flat landscape. This is what he loved the most. Ever since he returned from the disastrous trip with the boys several years ago, he distanced himself. Instead of going to college, he kept a low profile and held several jobs working at local graphic arts companies. Eventually he saved enough money and brought himself a rundown Kawasaki bike he found at a local garage sale. It was from one of the Ninja series according to the owner. The ebony metal came to life after he replaced the heart of the bike. And now here he was, a nomad traveling across the United States.

The open air blew past his leather jacket. He turned onto a side road and wondered where it was going to lead him. He rode for several more miles before coming across a mom-and-pop restaurant. Several trucks were parked outside along with a group of motorcycles.

The front door jingled and it felt like he had stepped back in time to the age of poodle skirts and letterman jackets. The customers hardly looked up at him as he took a seat in an empty booth in the corner.

"Anything to drink?" The blonde waitress walked over wearing a pressed yellow uniform and white apron.

"Water is fine." He fingered through the menu.

She came back with the cold drink, "You're not from around here."

"What gave it away?" Steve glanced up at her.

"The accent." She whipped out her notepad. "What would you like?"

"The burger – medium well."

"I'll get that in right away." She walked back to the counter and stuck the slip on the carousel.

Steve slinked back into the green leather, sipping on his drink. He stole a few glances here and there, and listened in on random conversations. A set of brunette curls caught his eyes.

She sipped on her cup of tea until her cell phone rang off. She punched several buttons furiously until jamming the device back into her coat pocket. "Can I have the check please?"

He noticed his same waitress was serving her also, "Another long day, Peggy?"

"You can say that again. Sorry to cut this short, but I have to get back." She pulled several dollars from her wallet. "Will this do?"

"It's on the house," she smiled back.

"Thanks I owe you one."

"Don't mention it." She wiped the counter with a towel, "I hear it's going to be a great show tonight."

"We'll see about that." Her black heels clicked against the tiles as she exited the local diner.

"Order up!" The cook rang a bell and slid the plate underneath the warmer.

Steve watched from his vantage point until his order was brought to him. The hamburger was a decent sized portion. "Who was that you were serving earlier by the counter?"

"Just one of our regulars." She went over to the next booth and started to clean it, "Why?"

"Oh nothing."

He polished off the burger in fifteen minutes and dunked the last of his fries in the pile ketchup on his plate, savoring the last hint of salt. "What did ya think?"

"Not bad at all." He placed aside his money on the table.

"I'll get the change. Hold on a sec."

"No worries, keep the change." The waitress nodded and cleared the table, getting it ready for the next customer.

Outside, the sun was setting higher as shadows stretched on the dusty ground. He heard someone kicking the side of their car. "Need help?"

The brunette whipped her head out from her hood, "I think my starter finally died on me. So much for the piece of crap I get from work." She slammed the hood down. "Can you give me a lift?"

"Where to?"

"Just a few miles down the road."

"Just to let you know I ride a motorcycle."

"I don't give a damn as long as I get back to work." The brunette followed him to the Kawasaki. "Nice set of wheels." He handed her his helmet, "I'm Peggy."

"Steve Rogers."

"Pleasure to meet you," she called over his shoulder. "Make a left up here and follow the road until you hit a research station. You'll know it when you see it. It's the only building out here."

The pair rode in silence as the engine hummed against the gravel road. Like Peggy had said, it was obvious about the building she had mentioned. The beige walls matched with its surroundings. A guard was positioned out front, monitoring the foot traffic.

"You're late, Agent Carter. Director Fury needs you."

"Hold your horses," she fired back. "If I owned a company vehicle that worked, I wouldn't be in this predicament now." She showed the officer her credentials as she informed him that Rogers was a civilian. "He's with me."

"What is this place?"

"It's a research station." She continued to hold him around his waist. "You can pull over to the small brick building on your left."

Steve did what he was told. Quickly, the officer hopped off and handed him his helmet back before dashing into her office to see what the fuss was about. The blond waited by his bike, drinking in his new surroundings. For a research station, there was a lot of activity. And then the door to her office was jarred open by a heavy gust.

"What do you mean?"

"We might be able to finally jumpstart the program." A male's voice with a hint of accent carried over towards to where Steve was standing. "The only problem is that we're short on test subjects."

"Can we trust this source?" She was throwing logic back into the equation. "What happens if this source has been compromised?"

"Fury believes it's valid. He already has sent me the formula." The scientist quickened his pace about the room, "Think about it, Carter."

Steve backed away and decided it was his opportune time to leave. He only wished that when he started the bike that it wasn't so loud. _Ugh_. The door to her office opened wider and she stood there watching him. "Wait…Rogers! There's something I need to talk to you about."

He paused on his bike, not making twenty feet from his starting point. And now he was rethinking of why he ever turned on that road in the first place.

…

Darcy gazed with her binoculars as her breath misted in front of her. Her eyes were scanning the dark skies for the show. "Where are you?" she whispered as she kept a clicker nearby.

"Any luck yet?"

"Not yet." She reached for canister of hot chocolate. "Isn't your boyfriend supposed to swing by?"

"How did you know?"

"You kept mentioning about it earlier." She adjusted her seat on the balcony.

Jane continued to set the computers, "I think you'll like him."

Darcy looked up back into changing canvas as she caught a streak of blue. "I think the show is starting."

…

Thor looked at his watch. The crystal face mocked at him for his tardiness. Knots started to form in his stomach as he drove the jeep down on the narrow roadway. He triple checked that he carried the ring in his shirt pocket before leaving their apartment. Tonight was it. That's what he finally decided on.

He turned on the radio and listened to a random station that Jane had already programed to. "To all of our star aficionados, don't forget the Perseids will be putting on a great show tonight."

He continued to drive as he made his way closer to the observatory. Occasionally, he peered through the windshield and caught several streaks of light arcing across. No wonder Jane fell in love with the skies. He parked his vehicle on the shoulder to watch the spectacle.

"Where are you?"

"I'm on my way," he spoke into the phone. "I can't believe the show I'm seeing."

"Neither can Darcy or myself."

"I'll be there shortly." He gave a brief pause, "Love you."

"Love you too."

He hopped back into his jeep and continued on his trip. A warning sign was ahead as the blind turn was coming up. For no apparent reason, his eyes gazed at driver's side mirror and his eyes caught several of the lights hitting the ground. He countered it with some optical illusion and was about to turn the corner.

Headlights blinded him as the vehicles collided into one another. The jeep was sent spinning into the guardrail as a truck rolled down the turn, slamming on its brakes to avoid the accident before him.

The sickening sound of metal echoed about him. Somehow he was still upright, but his head was spinning. He tried to pry open his door but it was jammed from the outside. He punched the cracked window with his elbow and ignored the searing pain. He heard another vehicle coming towards the accident site. The guardrail rocked with the third impact. He looked ahead of him and saw the bolted metal breaking away. The free-fall felt like an eternity for him as he tried to reach for his cellphone, but it was useless. There wouldn't be any message left for her. Not even a single goodbye. The last thing he saw was an arc of blue light and Jane's smiling face, "Goodbye, my fair, Jane."

Jane looked out from the balcony. She had a nagging feeling something was wrong, but couldn't put a finger on it. She continued to watch the meteors dash across the jet-black sky. The stars tonight were dimmer than usual. They held a secret from her.

"Can you believe this, I already got 26 on the clicker." Her assistant continued to search through her section of the sky.

"That's great," she whispered.

"He'll show up."

"I hope he does." She continued to look up at the stars, but she could feel the tears brimming in the corners, ready to cascade down her cheek. _Something is not right._

The door to the main lab slammed. "I don't know what that Agent Coulson is up to, but that meeting was too long!" He tossed his briefcase aside and wandered over to the patio to meet up with his mentees. "And then there's that accident off of the blind turn. It doesn't look good from the site."

Something in Dr. Selvig's voice brought Jane out of her mental fog, "That's the route he would be taking." She quickly ran out of the premises and hopped into her own car, speeding down the hill until she saw the red and blue lights ahead of her. The scene was already marked with red flares and police tape. A semitrailer laid on its side as a blue tarp was draped over the driver's cabin.

Onlookers stood by their cars to see what had transpired. Jane pulled over to the shoulder and walked up close to survey the damage. Metal beams were twisted about. Her eyes wandered over towards the black skid marks that lead to a gapping hole. She couldn't believe it. It couldn't end like this. Her eyes wandered to the fragments of glass that littered the paved road. Flashlights beamed off randomly as rescuers were shouting out orders. The attention was shifted as the first responders found a jeep at the bottom of the hillside.

Every fiber in her body told her not to look, but she had to. Slowly she walked over to the edge. When her eyes met the black frame of the jeep, her world crumbled as she felt her heart shattering to a thousand pieces.

…

**Thanks again for reading. I hope everyone had a great New Year's. This chapter may look like a filler, but it does serve a purpose. From here on out, the main focus will be on Clint and Natasha. And to my loyal readers, look for an announcement below, since several of you have voiced your opinions before.**

**WingBeat – Thank you for your review and comments! Sorry if you lost sleep on it, but I love to write in my spare time. I answered part of your question with this chapter. Bruce has been referenced before by Coulson in a previous chapter when Clint was in Tony's loft getting ready to track Natasha.**

**Brandi – Your wish will be granted eventually. (Hint…hint).**


	23. Chapter 23

Gray eyes focused ahead as he navigated the car through the sudden downpour. Somewhere they had crossed Colorado's state line, as the flat terrain from Kansas was replaced with pines and canyons. Natasha stared out her window, watching the indifferent liquid streak across the glass surface. She had been quiet since leaving Waverly.

She stole a glance at her driver and noticed his hearing aids. She never pushed the issue during her time with him back on the farm. In truth, there was really a never right moment to bring it up.

"You're thinking about something," he broke the silence. His one hand was on the steering wheel, while he reached for his cold cup of coffee.

"No I'm not," she fired back.

The archer let out a small laugh, "Even without looking, I can tell."

"Is that so?" She stretched in her seat, hoping to deflect the conversation. "Where are we going?"

"Like I said, you'll find out soon enough." He adjusted the speed of the windshield wipers. "What is really on your mind?"

She listened to the pings coming from the roof, "You never mentioned about your hearing aids. The folder you gave me had everything else about my time in South America and the Red Room."

"You don't miss a single detail, don't you?"

"I try not to, since I have certain skill sets now."

Sooner or later, Clint knew this conversation was going to come up. His hearing loss was something he didn't want to discuss. He learned to adapt with his new devices. "I lost it during the explosion back in Sao Paulo." Natasha remained silent. "Doctors hoped that it may come back on its own, but it never did. They think the impact blast did too much damage. The cells never regenerated."

"It's my fault," she whispered.

"Don't go blaming yourself, Nat." He continued to drive through the rainstorm. "Shit happens, maybe for the better or the worse."

"It's still not fair for everything that you went through."

"Don't go there, Nat. Just don't go there." He pulled over to the shoulder. "I never told anyone this but I made a deal with god that he could take one thing away from me if it meant getting you back." The Russian spy locked her emerald eyes on him. "Look where we're at."

"Clint…"

"Damn it, Nat, if I have to do it again, I would." His weathered fingers wrapped themselves against the steering wheel.

Nightfall blanketed the terrain. A rest stop came into their view and Clint decided to make that right hand turn. The pair hadn't exchange any words from their last debate. The marksman left his seat and walked around, mulling at his thoughts.

She slid into the driver's seat before he could get in, "I'll drive."

"Fine."

"Get some sleep. You look like shit." She glanced over him. A faint hint of stubble was forming on his lower jawline.

"Just follow the GPS, will you?"

"What makes you think I'm going to deviate?" She gave him a deadpanned look as he opened the back door.

"You never followed directions."

"Are you picking a fight with me now?" She punched the power button on the mini device.

Clint thought better of it and held his tongue. He didn't need to have one pissed off Russian with him now. He'll have to deal with it when she finally realizes where they're heading. "Good night." He tucked himself in the back seat with his legs semi elevated in the cramped compartment.

"Good night."

Headlights beamed back at her, as she gazed over to the automated directions. In the back, she could hear him snoring softly with some incoherent syllables. He managed to turn himself on his side. _Figures_. A soft smile formed at the corner of her lips as she reveled in the moment.

_**Flashback**_

_Her cellphone vibrated at the corner of her desk. She reached over and her eyes were dismayed. Keys were punched in rapid sequence followed by a few curses in Russian. It was not a night to be trifled with but this matter took precedence. _

_Green eyes looked out from her blue curtains. The street was devoid of life except for a few parked cars with frosted windows. From her vantage point, the Barton household looked peaceful but it was nowhere it. A dark secret was being contained inside the picturesque household. _

_She grabbed her black coat and wrapped her white scarf around her neck. She sneaked out in the back, hoping her parents wouldn't hear her. She could already feel the cold seep through as she quietly walked with grass crunching underneath her shoes. _

_The moon casted her light, illuminating the naked branches as Natasha walked deeper into the woods. "What the fuck happened?" She saw him huddled on their log. His wet hair was matted against his scalp._

_Clint barely moved, "He came out of nowhere." He winced as her fingers grazed over a laceration by his eyebrow. _

"_You should see someone for that."_

"_I don't need stitches," he countered. _

_She raised her eyebrows, questioning his move, "I'm not going to punch some sense into you." _

"_I can't go back there tonight. He's in his mood." _

"_I know." She took a branch and drew in the dirt. "Come with me." _

"_Are you sure about this?" _

"_Do you want a death wish?" Her vivid eyes flashed back at him. "You even admitted it wasn't safe." The two walked in silence under the moonlight until they reached the Romanoff residence. "Just be quiet. I don't need to freak out my parents. And don't touch anything." _

"_Yes, ma'am." Clint nodded his head as he tried to stifle a laugh. _

_For being the night it was, the redhead noticed his personality come through as one of his defense mechanisms. The two sneaked up the stairs and went back to her room. "Sorry it isn't much. The bathroom is just around the corner."_

_Clint plopped his backpack down on the carpet. "I'll stay out of your way, promise." _

"_Whatever you say, Barton." _

…

_There was a loud knock coming from the front door. Natasha peeked out from her window and saw the formidable shadow. "Great," she muttered. Clint was still asleep. She quickly bounded the steps._

"_What do you want?" _

_Barney stood in the cold with his bloodshot eyes, "Where is he?" _

"_I don't know what you're talking about." Her jade eyes narrowed in front of him. "Even if I did know, I wouldn't tell you." _

"_He's here…isn't he?"_

"_He's not. Get the hell out of here, or I'm calling the cops for trespassing." _

_By then, Dr. Romanoff had clamored down the stairs and was behind his daughter, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. _"_Get out of here, Barney," his voice was low. The half-blooded Barton walked down the winding sidewalk and slipped back into the shadows. "What was that about, Natalia?"_

"_It's nothing. I'm going to back to study. Good night." _

_She tapped her pen against the blank note page. "I'll stay out of your way, promise." She laughed at the afterthought, but became more annoyed at something else…his incessant snoring. She looked over at her clock and she had another hour to cram in the information. The thought of suffocating him with a pillow crossed her mind but it just took too much effort. Instead her fingers twisted the paper in front of her and she chucked the innocent projectile at him. _

_Nothing. _

_The useless ball fell flat against the floor. _

"_My tree." _

_She leaned over her desk and stared in shock. For the next few minutes, she listened to his intermittent words mixed with his snoring. The redhead knelt beside him and wondered how she could deal with this. Her hands lingered above him, trying to swat the air above him but that didn't work. The idea of the pillow suffocation flickered back to life but she couldn't bring herself to do that. Instead, she pinched the bridge of his nose._

_The few seconds of silence was welcoming, but then she noticed something else. He had bent his knees up. She took her fingers off his nose and waited for his snore to return, but it didn't. It was peaceful bliss. And now, she could get back to her studies. The hour rolled by as her neurons absorbed European history. She was about to shut off her lamp and she still saw Clint lying on his back with his knees still bent. _

…

A feminine voice broke into her memory, "Continue heading southwest for the next 100 miles."

The master assassin reached over to tamper with the device, but Clint had locked it from her. She still wondered where the marksman was taking the both of them. The idea of trusting him was starting to turn into suspicion, but that was her instincts reawakening.

"I told you to keep following the directions," he called from behind her.

"You must've enjoyed your sleep." She stared in front of her as she watched a red glow being casted from the rearview mirror.

"I did." He snaked his way up to the front. "You can pull over at the next oasis. We need to fill up on gas."

"You need to shave."

"No I don't," he ran his fingers over the prickly hairs.

The blue information sign passed by them as she revved the car up. The small gas station was hidden in the countryside. When they pulled into the station, the fuel attendant with greasy gray clothes walked up to them.

"Don't go too far," Clint called after her.

She shot him a dirty look before slipping into the convenience store to freshen up in the bathroom. When she came out, Barton was leaning against the driver side, waiting for the attendant to finish. "What's this?" He eyed at the mini can of shaving cream and a pack of disposable razors.

"For you."

"And you didn't buy coffee?"

"I'm going to sleep now." She brushed against him and snuck into the backseat.

"I would listen to your wife," the attendant finished topping off the gas tank.

Clint shot him a look and nodded in response. With his toiletries in hand along with the keys, he left the vehicle and did what Natasha asked him to do. On his way back, he poured himself an extra cup of coffee and grabbed some powdered donuts from the stand.

"Isn't that better?" she purred. "You know I was _right." _

"Hn," he took a mouthful of his breakfast without offering anything to her. "Go to sleep."

The engine started up as he felt the caffeine course through his veins. They were in the final home stretch. The land morphed into colored sands. Natasha was asleep even though the road was filled with potholes. Clint reached into the glove compartment and pulled out his S.H.I.E.L.D. issued cell phone. "Charlotte is on her way. ETA 20 minutes."

"Acknowledged." Phil's voice was heard on the other end. The agent slipped the device back into his pocket. Fury looked up with his one good eye, wondering what his agent was up to. "Better call a level one."

"It seems your star pupil is making her appearance." He glanced over to Ivan to who sat by the window.

"She cannot know that I'm here, not yet." The former Red Room mastermind walked over to the door.

"Agent Coulson will take you down into the lab."

…

The sound of metal clicking against her wrist brought her out of her sleep. "What the shit is this?" She shot a death glare at her captor. "Explain Barton," she hissed. The archer ignored her mini rant as he continued pass the booth. He tossed his badge on the passenger seat. "Oh you didn't, I can't believe you." She banged her hands against his headrest. "You…dipshit."

"You can curse all you want, but it doesn't change anything." His country accent was low. "Surprised?"

"You knew all along, didn't you?"

"Yes," he nodded.

"I knew something was off." She clawed at her bag, hoping to grab her weapons.

"It's for your protection since you managed to piss off several agents."

"My protection?" she laughed. "You got me handcuffed in the backseat."

"Will you just trust me on this one?" He looked at her from the rearview mirror. Their eyes connected briefly as he held a secret message to her. "It's going to be alright."

The secret base came into view as Clint tapped on the brakes before coming to a complete stop. He stepped out in his black jacket and escorted the now handcuffed Black Widow from the backseat. The Russian didn't resist as she continued to be escorted by him.

Agent Hill was at her desk, signing off some mission papers. Her eyes immediately saw the couple. Instinctively, her hands went down to her gun and pulled out the weapon. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Stand down, Agent Hill." Barton stopped in his tracks and countered with his own gun. He stood in front of the Black Widow, "She's here to talk with Director Fury. She's defecting."

Maria withdrew her weapon, even though the level one was initiated. She had a grudge against the Russian spy despite the former friendship that she had with Natasha. "As you were."

It was a sight to behold. The archer and the master spy walked up towards the main office. Whispers circulated through the base that the infamous assassin had finally arrived. Fury sat behind his desk while Agent Coulson remained at his side. "We've been expecting you, Natasha Romanoff."

…

**Thanks for reading and for the reviews from Barefoot Beach Bum, Brandi, XxTheXBlindXBanditxX, and jinxcharm! I know I may have confused a lot of you with that plot twist from last chapter. Thank you to those who added this story to their favorites and author alerts. **

******Feel free to leave a review or PM me.**


	24. Chapter 24

"What is this about?" She felt the metal restraints come undone by Clint.

"Agent Barton has made an interesting call back in the field." Director Fury clasped his hands behind his back as he walked about the room. "He has been sending reports about your mental progress."

Natasha shot him a dirty look as he stared straight ahead. "What are you requesting?"

"Your services…you were trained in the Red Room. I hate to have your skill set wasted, as we are short on agents. You will be a welcomed asset to our cause."

"A cause?" She turned her head aside, shifting her red curls off her shoulder.

"I have a specific team in mind in case something was to happen to the earth. Call it strategic planning if you will." He tossed a folder in front of her.

Her eyes glanced over the black eagle imprinted on the gray folder. "You've been watching us, haven't you?"

"I have for a _very _long time."

The Black Widow sat there mulling over the paperwork. She felt the three sets of eyes boring into her, wondering if she was going to make a quick switch into her alter ego. "What's in it for me?"

"A clean slate. I know how that is important for you." He poured himself a glass of water and offered another one to her. "Your parents were part of something that they knew would change the course of history. They saw the errors and tried to change it through their work."

There it was again. The shadow that loomed from her past. Her ledger was dripping red. "When do I begin?"

"There's no need to rush things. We'll start soon enough." He took a sip from his glass. "Agent Coulson will be your handler."

…

Clint and Natasha walked behind Phil. It felt like high school all over again. There was hardly anyone she knew.

"Some surprise," she whispered, stressing the lasts few syllables.

"I know, but how was I going to drag you out here. Medicate you with vodka?"

"Funny…you're impossible."

Phil jumped into the conversation, "You'll both need to pass physicals and field exams before anything happens."

"Hold on a sec, but why do I have to?" The archer paused in his tracks.

"You haven't been active, Agent Barton. Just because you send me random notes doesn't mean a thing. You need to prove it to Fury. Otherwise, no fieldwork." Phil continued to walk down the corridor. "You're both reporting to medical as we speak."

The pair remained silent. Natasha gave Clint another icy stare with _I hate you_ glare attached to it. A familiar face broke the moment. "Bobbi, what are you doing here?"

"Shut the fuck up, Barton." The blonde sent him another dirty stare. "I'm heading over to the east coast to investigate a mysterious sighting about a green monster." She glanced over towards the redhead. "So this is the cause of my trouble."

Natasha felt the hairs on her neck bristled, "If you have issues with me, let's take it to the mat." Her jade eyes turned to mischievous hazel.

"You can count on it, Widow." She walked away with files in her hands.

"She was pleasant."

Clint felt the corridor becoming smaller as they walked. "I didn't sleep with her."

"I didn't even ask."

"Right."

She shook her head and separated from his side. They entered through the sliding frosted doors. The sterile area was bright with steel walls like any other medical bay she had seen. "Alright you two, play nice."

…

Clint watched the clinician jot a few more notes down on his notepad. The veering colors of red and blue were laid out on a grid. He had removed the headphones and set them aside. Whatever the doc was jotting down it wasn't a good sign. To him, the notes looked like gibberish. "Did I pass?"

"I'll let the Director decide on that one." The young man shifted his eyeglasses upward on the bridge of his nose. He reached for the tuning fork and confirmed his findings.

"Well?" He sat, waiting for a response.

"The hearing loss has stabilized."

"That's good news then, right?"

"You're still having trouble differentiating certain frequencies that you'll need in your line of work. I'm going to have audiology look into it and outfit you with special hearing aids."

The archer's face dimmed upon hearing the news. "Fine. Get me those damn hearing aids so I can get back into the field."

"There might be surgical correction as a possibility if you want to think about it."

"Is there anything else?"

"You're not done yet, Mr. Barton. You still have the rest of the physical to complete."

"Great…more poking and prodding." He looked beyond the wall and wondered if Natasha was having better success.

…

The room was quiet as she felt a chill run up her spine. She hated being locked up in a room especially anything dealing with the medical aspect. For the most part, she kept her interactions limited with the staff as they wrote their observations about her on the paper.

Her eyes travelled to the faint scar on her right shoulder. Clint had done a pretty good job in keeping the wound clean from any infection.

"Ms. Romanoff?" A nurse had walked in with several plastic tubes with a rainbow collection of tops.

"What do you want now?"

"I'm from the laboratory. I need several samples from you." She laid out the vials and alcohol wipes on a small mayo stand.

The Black Widow already drew up her right sleeve and offered the nurse her limb. "You better stick me just once." The brunette weakly smiled even though her hand was shaking under the pressure. She tightened the tourniquet above the elbow. Natasha glanced down with her piercing green eyes. "Ow," she flatly said as the nurse quickly removed the needle along with the rubber strap, and kept the catheter in place.

One by one, the tubes were filled with the liquid ruby. "We're finished."

"I don't want you to come back and tell me we need more samples. If those idiots mess up in lab, tell them tough luck."

…

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Coulson looked at the one-way window. "They make an unlikely pair."

"They have _history_ between them." His gaze went back to the monitors, "It's all for the better."

The medical team entered the room, "They passed their physicals for the most part. We knew Barton would fail his hearing test. He's going to be needing these," the senior doctor tossed several hearing aids in their cases. "My team can make so much, but I'm afraid he'll go through them very quickly."

Fury picked at one of the devices, "He's not going to like it."

"We'll be studying the Black Widow's blood samples. Already the cells demonstrate regenerative properties to an extent."

"I guess we should begin phase two." Fury looked over towards Coulson. "We'll start in two days."

"Don't you think you're rushing this?"

"Let's see what those two can do. I have faith in them."

"Obviously more than I do right about now," he shrugged. "So much for _next week_." He left the room and walked over to where his charges were placed. The archer and the Black Widow stood in opposite corners of the room. Phil felt he walked into the middle of something. "You both passed. Fury wants to accelerate this process. Be ready in two days for the field exams."

The Russian crossed her arms and looked annoyed, as she watched their handler leave. "Where were we again?"

"I didn't mean to snowball all of this."

"Right. It was your secret agenda all this time."

"Maybe," he shrugged his shoulders in defeat. "I knew you weren't going to like this."

"I'm leaving." She turned on her heels and walked away.

…

Bobbi chucked several papers into boxes that were scattered on her desk. Seeing Clint with the Black Widow made her blood boil. They hadn't exactly left on good terms back in Manhattan after her identity was revealed. And all this time, she fell for his trap, while it should've been the reverse.

"Do you have time?"

The female stiffened a little at the sound of the voice, "Well what do you want, Widow?"

"A score to settle. I guess you were part of the team that _wanted_ _me_ dead."

"That's partly true." She taped the last of her boxes. "Let's get this over with."

The two females entered into a large gym, where other agents were in training. "Let the best one win."

"I wouldn't hold your breath, Widow."

Green eyes honed in on her opponent. Neither one of them dared to make the first move for a while, as they both sized each other up. Hawkeye had found a perch several yards away from the epic sparring match. Rumors spread quickly as the duel was about to begin.

Bobbi sprung from her feet and charged at the redhead. Quickly, she dropped kicked without any effect. Natasha countered with a quick blow to the blonde's knee but Bobbi rebounded. "Is that all you got?" the Russian mocked her.

"This is just the beginning," as she charged again but added a twisted summersault that knocked the Widow to the ground with a thud. "Take that."

From then on, the two were equal in dueling, trading off kicks and punches. "What's the deal with you and Clint?" she held the chokehold over Bobbi's throat.

"Nothing," she said through clenched teeth, "I was going to ask you the same thing," her vision was fading in and out.

"Nothing too," she tightened her hold in retaliation.

"Bullshit," as she twisted out of the assassin's death grip. "I've seen your file," she spat. She ran at her opponent and twisted her legs around Natasha's waist, bringing them both to the ground. "You're afraid."

"I'm not," she countered with her weight, throwing the blonde onto her back.

Bobbi let out a sharp gasp as she felt the Widow gaze down over her, "I've been there before."

Emerald eyes flashed as she understood that statement. By now, a large crowd had gathered with several agents taking bets on the victor. "We're through here."

"Fine then." Inwardly, Bobbi felt she had won this match. There was no denying the facts as they were in plain sight. The scientist in her clearly saw what the two couldn't see or maybe didn't fully acknowledge. It was her secret to keep and hers alone. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't have to be included in on this one. There were already too many secrets behind closed doors, and the game was constantly changing. The Black Widow held out her hand to the marine biologist.

The crowd thinned out with some disappointment on their faces. Clint noticed a change in Bobbi's demeanor along with Natasha. "Did I just miss something?" he saw the blonde leaving through the heavy doors.

She sauntered by him, "Not really."

…

Clint stared out into the vastness. Outcroppings of weathered rock stood over the distant horizon line. It was quiet from his vantage point. Every so often, a flicker of light blazed across the open sky. He needed to get away from all the excitement from today's events. He tried out his newly outfitted hearing aids as they picked up sounds he had missed for so long.

_Hn_.

He leaned over the railing and just stood there, stealing the scene. Beside him, the gray box he had been carrying up until this point. _She died back there_. He could hear Nat's voice echoing in his mind as the desert wind picked up speed.

To him, she would always be Natasha Romanoff, the girl with the unruly red curls he had met back in high school after spilling his drink on her skirt. Not the Black Widow, a legend from the Red Room. He saw beyond the boundaries and it no longer mattered. He told her the truth back then and he was going to stick to it.

He heard soft footsteps behind him, "This is an interesting perch."

"Well you found me." He turned towards her, "Got tired of the party downstairs?"

"I needed some space." She looked out into the open. "Quite a view up here."

"It sure is," his voice was low.

"About earlier..."

"Don't mention it," he cut her off, "I've always got your back."

A small grin formed at the corner of her lips, "What's this?" Her boot kicked at the metal container.

"I almost forgot." He took a chain from his neck and unlocked the box.

"You didn't." Chartreuse eyes were shocked to see what items the marksman held out. The rose petals had a deep pink hue to them along with the tattered gray ribbon tied at the stem. "I can't believe you kept it."

"I took it from your room in Sao Paulo."

"Go figure, you've always been the sentimental one." She fingered the dried flower as she heard Clint let out a snort. Her eyes wandered over to the white scarf he had also tucked in there. "Don't you think it's time to let go?"

He didn't want to hear those words but maybe she was right. It was time to let go of the past. His calloused hands went over to hers and took the desiccated flower into his own. Slowly, he crushed the petals between his palms and broke the stem into several pieces. The gray ribbon was unwoven into tiny threads. He opened his palm and let the southwestern wind take ahold of the remains, scattering them across the mesa.

He picked up the white fabric from the case as well. The wind licked at the scarf, pulling the fabric against its will. They both watched as it left his palm. In slow motion, the white cloth twisted about, being silhouetted by the midnight canvas.

…

**I figured it was a good time to update, since an ice storm is coming and I will be stuck in my apartment. At least, Bobbi and the Black Widow ended on good terms. But will it be the last time we see Bobbi? Thanks for reading as always! Thank you to all those who have reviewed – 100 reviews! **

**Until next time… **


	25. Chapter 25

She peered around the corner, confirming her suspicions. She cursed in Russian away from earshot of the two guards that remained on watch. Time was ticking and she reached for her pepper spray from her utility belt.

_One…two…three_.

She leapt from her hiding place and blindsided one of the guards, while spraying the hapless wit that began to claw at his face. Her Widow's Bite stunned the poor soul and she clamored up the steps.

Several other guards popped out of the corridor and she slid on the ground, taking them down at their vulnerable ankles and kneeing several in the groin. _One minute_. Mentally she was aware she was running out of time.

An arrow whizzed by her fiery red curls. "I can handle it by myself," she shouted back into the empty air.

"I'm not going to let you have _all_ the fun."

She reciprocated with her pistol as she shot a target behind the marksman. "You were saying?"

He shook his head, warding off the residual blast charges he received earlier. "These hearing aids aren't working." The constant ringing was enough to drive him mad. He thought he had it under control.

"You still need them."

He continued to follow her through the dark compound, as more blast charges were ignited. "That's it," he grumbled. What he lost in hearing, he made it up with his vision. His fingers reached for an arrow. Silently, he launched it into a back corner and one of the men came crashing to the broken floor. "Finally."

"How many arrows you have left?"

"Not many."

"You might want to switch it to your gun now."

"You know I don't like that," his gray eyes narrowed in the darkness.

"I'm just saying." She held her hand in front of them as she picked up more footsteps coming their way.

Clint punched a button on his bow and several clicks were heard coming from his quiver. "It'll be my pleasure," a grin appeared on his face. "You may want to duck." The hallway ignited in smoke and flames, as the guards scattered from the blast.

"Show off," she brushed past him, while aiming her gun around the corner.

The two ran out and made their way to the final room. They rushed through the bolted doors, analyzing their current surroundings for traps and triggers. To their amazement, Fury and Coulson stood in the middle with a vast amount of screens.

"I see we have a new record. I'm impressed." Fury grabbed a scanner and gave it to Coulson.

"What is this all about?" She controlled her breathing as Coulson walked up to her first. "What the hell is this?"

Coulson didn't answer her as he waved the wand over her. Her black catsuit hardly had any coalescing green light up except over her back. A linear green line was stretched across her shoulder blade.

Her head turned around, "Fuck."

"It's just one," her handler replied.

"It's still one mark," she muttered.

Coulson's attention turned over to Hawkeye. His reaction was the same as Widow's. "Get this over with." The wand emitted clicks as Coulson swept from head to toe. Natasha watched, hoping he would get several marks or at least one mark more than her. "I'm guessing I'm better than the Black Widow."

The redhead was going to lunge at him for his comment until the signal went off. She raised an eyebrow. "You were saying." The sound of her voice mocked back at him for his premature victory.

Green marks were seen over his right upper abdomen, as two distinct lines not a mere inch were crisscrossed.

"That could've been bad," Fury looked at the marksman and went over to the screens to see when that event occurred. He found the scene where Barton had been in a knife battle, using his bow to counter the slashes. His attacker rebounded several times alternating his hold of the deadly weapon before tempting Clint to counter his attacks.

"You know I don't like use any other weapon except for my bow."

Fury gazed at him. "Better reconsider." His attention went back to the monitor.

…

The week went by slowly after the field trials. Phil was tracking something out west as usual, but there was something he was holding back. His brows furrowed as he checked his cellphone. Natasha never mentioned it, but she kept a close watch on the agent. No one could still be trusted, not even Barton. The stunt he had pulled still had ramifications in her book.

The Black Widow walked about the base, seeing that it was her prison at this point. She found the research corridor. Judging by the numerous locked doors, she wasn't granted access to whatever secret projects. She turned around the corner, but a familiar scent caught her attention. A faint hint of peppermint oil tainted the air.

Her light footsteps quickened. _He's here_.

The redhead bounded up the stairs and onto the second level before coming across an opening that looked out on the mesa. She wished she had her Widow's Bite with her, but Fury had confiscated them after the trials and along with her other cache as well.

Her green eyes fell upon an aged man. "Ivan," her voice broke the silence.

Her former mentor turned around. "I see that you're alive."

Without seconds to waste, she pushed him against the windowpane. "Why are you here?" She held a death grip around his neck. "You put me through hell," she seethed.

He struggled against her grip, "I can explain," he croaked.

A few Russian curses were thrown his way, as she shoved him to the ground. Her sharp heel was aimed at his jugular. "I don't need more lies. You were the one who killed my parents."

"It wasn't me," the old man pleaded with his former star pupil.

Confusion flashed across the Black Widow's face. "Enlightened me." She sunk her heel further, a thin line of blood streaked down his neck and stained his shirt's collar.

"It was Alexei. He was the mole in the group."

"What?"

"The minute you went off the grid back in Novosibirsk, Alexei was going to kill you anyhow. He visited me earlier in that day, trying to kill me as well. He was working for someone else."

"You mean you've been protecting me all this time?" She lifted her heel off his neck.

Ivan got off from the floor and rubbed his neck, "I trained you well and it wasn't easy. I had to play the bad guy." His accent was thick with hints from the old country.

"Do we know whom?" she went back to the previous part of their conversation.

"No." The old man sat on a bench, "he wiped his records clean." He applied pressure to his superficial wound, "He was methodical."

"Is he still alive?"

"He's dead…buried under the Red Room," the master spy smirked. "It was pride that got to him at the end."

"Good then."

Her mentor sighed, "I'm sorry if I had put you through hell back then. There was just no other way around it."

"You were a good teacher." She smiled back at him.

He took the simple gesture, since it was rarity for her to smile. "I saw your field exam the other day. It can still use some work."

She cocked her head a little sideways, wondering what he was up to. "More training I assume?"

"You read my mind. All we need is Barton."

…

The marksman lunged at her, but she quickly twisted her body with a half handstand. Her legs connected with his back and he landed to the ground with a thud.

"Stop falling for that," she barked at him.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, "Easy for you to say."

Ivan watched his two pupils from the sidelines. "Again."

Phil stood there, counting the number of times Barton landed on the mat. He didn't dare to interject into Ivan's drill schedule.

Natasha crouched low to the mat and eyed Clint. Her green eyes focused on his chiseled arms. "Thirsty for more?"

He played a grin his face, "you know it." He charged at her before twisting beside her. He caught one of her arms and locked it in position.

"Where did you learn this one?" she spat.

"Ivan gave me some pointers before this." He added pressure to her left arm. "Want to have dinner tonight?"

"In your dreams," her eyes narrowed before she flipped herself, knocking Clint off his center of gravity. "I win again."

"That's a little better," Phil called from the sidelines.

The door to the gym opened. Fury walked in with his black trench coat. "I see everyone is playing nice for once," he called out. Everyone in the gym froze. He handed each of his agents a folder. "You have your mission assignments. Welcome to Strike Team Delta."

…

Jane plunged her extra hours into the lab despite Darcy's insistence that she take a leave of absence. There was no point in going back to an empty apartment.

"Can you hand me that wrench over there?" the budding scientist continued wiring her contraption.

"You need to seriously stop," her assistant whispered as she scrounged for the metal bar. "This is unhealthy for you."

"I don't care right now." She grabbed the tool from Darcy's hand. "I need to do something to keep my mind at bay." She worked on the device for a several more hours. Soon enough, metallic shell encased the wires she had programmed. Deep down, she didn't want to believe that Thor was dead. She saw the accident reports and bystander accounts. None of it could be true. There was no rhyme or reason. It didn't make sense.

Firefighters believed he died on impact and that the collision down the hill caused the gas tank to rupture. The flames were too intense and they never recovered a body.

A cool liquid streamed down her left cheek as she made the final adjustments. "It can't be true," she whispered to herself. "It just can't be…"

She dropped the pliers on the table and sat there in silence, mulling over the week's events. This was the breakdown that Darcy was waiting for, but Jane would have none it. She didn't need anyone to know.

She flipped the on switch. A slow blue light engulfed the room. The beam focused and shot straight into the ceiling. She wiped away the tears around her eyes and silently said a prayer to herself before taking the gadget with her out to the open wide space.

Her footsteps kicked up the dirt as she wound her way to Dr. Selvig's site. His whole week was enraptured by a mysterious find. He still didn't know what it was, but only that it was encased in iron and that a force field surrounded the mysterious object.

The floodlights were still on as she made her way to his base camp. She walked a few more yards away from anyone's prying eyes. In the open vastness, she dug a hole and dropped her gadget into the foreign soil.

The self-sustaining light came on. She watched the beam point upward, piercing through the darkness. She hoped it would buy her some time. She walked back to her makeshift workstation. Her laptop was already crunching the numbers for her, plotting the inconceivable notions surrounding wormholes.

...

Swirls of fog and mist surrounded him. His head was spinning as he set foot on the marble floors. He didn't recognize where he was. _I'm not in Kansas_. The thought mused him as he wondered if he was in purgatory or not.

He walked further into the hallowed halls. Torches lined each side of the room, but he was beside himself. His footsteps grew stronger and bounced against the walls.

"Welcome home, my son." A figure moved from a shadow that was casted from a giant Corinthian column. The gray bearded man walked towards him with his Shakespearian costume ghosting across the floor.

"Excuse me?" He swallowed, clearing his throat. "Do I know you?" his voice was low and doubtful.

"Of course you don't." The old man smiled. "Walk with me." His voice boomed.

"Where am I?" The blond looked in bewilderment.

"Asgard."

"What? Come again." He rubbed the back of his head back and forth. "This can't be real."

The gray bearded god laughed. "You don't remember because I erased your memories." He looked at his son, "You needed to learn a lesson. And to earth, I sent you."

"Right…"

"You learned to love."

An image of Jane flashed across his mind. "I'm still not following."

The aging god stepped in front of him. He placed his hand into Thor's open palm. _Telepathically he flashed the images of the old Asgardian days, where Thor held court as a young prince. "You were always looking to Midgard and causing trouble for me." His father's voice reached into his mind._

_Images of his childhood came to light along with a smaller boy that stood next to him. The two were kneeling beside a staff that emitted a blue light. _

"_I found it first," the small boy stuck his tongue out._

"_I'm older than you," Thor shouted back. He snatched the staff from his adoptive brother. _

"_Settle down boys," Odin appeared on the steps of the drawing room. "Loki, it doesn't belong to you. And it doesn't belong to you either, Thor." _

_Loki flashed a smile across his mischievous face and ran out of the room, leaving Thor to fend for himself. "Why did you ever bring him here?" _

"_A debt had to be paid." Odin rested the staff by his chair. The god began to wonder if it was a wise decision. _

The connection ceased between both father and son. "There's a pressing matter that you need to know."

Thor shook his head and adjusted to the newfound cache of memories. The missing piece in his life was finally placed. "What is it?"

"It's Loki." Odin shuffled a few more steps, "There's so much I can do here, but you're needed back on earth."

"But, I still have more questions."

Odin smiled, "You'll get your answers." The god summoned the Odin Force and the energy force surrounded Thor. "Find Mjolnir."

"Wait…" he screamed against the swirling light and dust.

…

**The story is starting to pick up and there are just a few chapters left! Of all the Marvel movies, I have yet to see Thor. That's pretty good since I was living out of my car practically during med school. **

**Leave a review please…you'll get electronic cookies! **


	26. Chapter 26

Bobbi casted her gaze from the small café's window. For four days, she kept her weary eye on Dr. Bruce Banner. Reports of the scientist phasing into a menacing green monster were piling up against the quiet man. For all its worth, he maybe the modern Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde for all she knew.

Surveillance photographs showed the beast terrorizing lower Manhattan one night. Minus the fact that several abandoned warehouses suffered severe structural damage and that eyewitnesses thought it was some type of pyrotechnics being launched from the harbor.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent kept up her ruse as a marine biologist by day, collecting water and algae samples from points of entry into the harbor. It was the perfect cover, and no one would've suspected until Dr. Banner himself caught her.

"How many are here?"

"You really want to know?" Bobbi shot him a look.

"I'm not stupid. I know what they want."

"Do you?" she raised an eyebrow.

"You can't fool me Mockingbird."

Bobbi froze in her place, dropping the samples nonchalantly in her case. "How bad are the phases?"

"They're getting worse," he rubbed the back of his head.

"Any triggers?"

The scientist laughed, "Any triggers?" he retorted. "Everything can set me off."

The blonde collected her bags, "S.H.I.E.L.D. can help you."

"I don't need their help. And even if I accept, they _can't help me_," he growled. "You better step away."

"There must be something."

"There isn't," he snorted. "I tried everything and it's not pretty. Someone else always dies." His eyes narrowed. "Tell S.H.I.E.L.D. to stay out of this."

"And where do you think you're going?" The blonde stood with her heels planted firmly in the concrete.

"India." The scientist walked away, "Now if you'll excuse me."

Bobbi watched Bruce walk away. Her time in the east coast was a total waste of time. She dragged her bag along her side and walked against the harbor's winds. A soft buzz came from her cellphone. "Now what," she dropped her bag, ignoring the cracks that came within.

Her eyes fell upon a series of digits on the screen. "Oh shit," she whispered. She hadn't seen that number in years. _It can't be_. Her fingers ghosted across the metallic dials until they were right upon the green button.

"Hello…" She held her breath, listening to the wind that whistled on the other end. She didn't know how long she waited at the harbor until the silence was broken.

…

New Mexico's heat decided to take a turn in the opposite direction. The sun baked the rusty dirt. The workers already complained about the weather conditions and only to fuel Dr. Selvig's madness in getting the object out from the earth.

Coulson stood by, overseeing the progress of the excavation. S.H.I.E.L.D. took control of the site and started prepping the area with plastic tunnels that were air-conditioned.

"You do realize that once this object is out, we'll be taking it under our jurisdiction."

"You didn't even give me time to analyze the sample!" The astrophysicist crammed his hands into his pockets.

"That was the agreement at the beginning." Coulson played it cool. He adjusted his dark rimmed glasses and pushed them further up from the bridge of his nose. "And I'll be needing Ms. Foster's data as well."

"To hell with that. This is robbery!"

"You'll be well compensated for your time and commitment."

Dr. Selvig mumbled something to himself before finally letting the argument die in the desert heat. He watched the workers dig around the amalgam of iron and dirt until the forensics team unearthed a silver hammer. The group fell silent as they stood there in the presence of the deceptive hammer. At first, eight workers tried lifting it to no avail. Coulson then called in for the forklift. Everyone watched as the hammer broke the steel bars on the machine.

"I guess we're leaving it here in the ground." Coulson looked down into the pit. "This can get interesting."

Clint pulled up to the excavation site. Of all the places he wanted to be, he got this one. He pulled out his black bag and descended onto the dirt. "Reporting for duty."

"It's about time." Coulson shot him a small grin. "It looks like you'll be camping out here for awhile."

The marksman peered into the pit to see the silver hammer as well. Much to his dismay, he thought the finding would be bigger. "I have to guard that," he pointed.

"Yes." He slapped him on the shoulder. "Have fun."

"Hn." His eyes wandered over to the horizon. Thunderheads towered over the flat landscape. "It's going to be a mud pit soon."

…

The gray Haaglund traversed the white plains. She stared out the frosted window and watched the mind-numbing landscape pass by. Ivan had told her about the coordinates to the final resting ground of the Red Room. Even Fury wanted her to examine the ruins.

Eventually, the vehicle made its way to a crater that was exposed to the elements. Layers of snow tried to conceal the jagged concrete that jutted out from the frozen powder.

Natasha stepped out. Her fiery hair was in stark contrast to the never-ending white. Quickly, she accessed the area and found an entry point. She followed the corridor, being mindful of caved in ceiling and shattered beams. Memories of her former life came to light. The midnight conversations she had with Irina before turning into the Black Widow, and how the girls heard the screams coming from their comrades. She pushed aside a door and found her way to Ivan's old office. Before that, she passed the old classrooms where she was taught ballet. The metal bars were still mounted on the wall, even though the compound suffered massive damage. How could something so simple from her past remained untouched?

She turned around the corner and lifted herself on the mangled stairs, and made her way to the second level. Her flashlight's beam swept across the floor and something troubling caught her eye. Three sets of footsteps were seen on the cold concrete. Judging by the size, they were military issued. And one set, dried blood marred the floor.

She quickened her pace until she came across the massive door that lead to her mentor's office. There was a gapping hole through the metal. She leaned against the opening with her flashlight in hand. Again, the beam caught the dust and snow that swirled about.

Her green eyes honed in on the room, hoping to confirm Ivan's story. All she could find was a trail of old blood against the wall and floor, and another key finding...a synthetic bulletproof vest that lay against the wall. She walked over to the panel and gingerly touched the tiles until a hidden door opened.

"Director," she punched her earpiece, "We have a problem."

"Go on Widow."

"Alexei isn't here." She continued to explore the room, "Someone else has."

A knot had formed in the pit of her stomach as she retraced her footsteps out of the chaotic debris. Every so often, the ceiling let through the snowy powder. Ivan's grand plan should've worked perfectly but now the main question lies upon finding her supposedly deceased husband. It would've been easy for him to escape, since he was Ivan's second in command. He knew the shortcuts and escape routes in case there was any emergency. He played everyone well.

…

Three hours after a wasted goose chase, Natasha stepped out from the clear glass stall. The warm water didn't give her any piece of mind to her newest revelation. A thin film of steam clung to the mirrors until she wiped the moisture away. Little by little, she was showing the signs of fatigue. Dark gray circles formed shadows underneath her eyes.

She toweled her hair and grabbed the closest t-shirt and shorts. Being back in the city, she didn't want to wear the heavy fur coats of the north. She glanced up at her clock and figured her partner in crime was ending his shift right about now.

And just like clock work, the pair communicated online.

The long distance connection wasn't as a bad when compared to the time they had conversed with each other from South America's remote regions.

"Fury told me the news," Clint tossed his sunglasses across the screen.

"I don't know what to think of it," she toweled her hair. "It just makes matters worse that's for sure."

The marksman muttered something incoherently, "You'll probably find your dead husband a lot quicker than me."

"Funny." She gave him a cold stare, "we're not married anymore."

"And how would you know?" his gray eyes pierced the screen.

Natasha switched the topics quickly, "I heard you're on guard duty."

"I don't know what the fuss is really about." He shrugged his shoulders, "that hammer is heavier than any known metal."

"Hmm."

"I'm back on watch tomorrow night."

"Have fun with that one," she mused.

"You're not yourself." He shifted in his seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Something's bothering you."

"It's strange…" she paused, wondering over the chain of events that unfolded in the mere matter of weeks. "Fury is still not telling us something."

"Does he ever?" he fiddled with a pen in his hands.

"No," the Black Widow leaned into her chair.

"I think you drew the better end of the stick," he chuckled. "If you haven't noticed, I'm drenched."

Her eyes fell upon his roughened features. "I guess so." A loud knock came from the front door.

"Expecting room service?" He peered over her shoulder and into the background.

The two continued on with their conversation, but both of their senses heightened. He watched her reach down to pull out her Widow's Bite for added measure.

"I'll talk to you later," she smiled before disconnecting their conversation.

"Wait, Nat…" he hissed.

Natasha cautiously walked over to the door and adjusted her weapon. Just as her hand hovered over the brass handle, the door to her room was kicked wide open. She flew at her intruder, throwing all of her weight into the assault.

"What do you want?" she hogtied the intruder, digging the rope into his wrists. "Who are you working for?"

The intruder kept his mouth shut as she continued to twist the ropes even tighter, and seeing his hands becoming paler.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," a voice drifted from the doorway.

She recoiled at the sound and met his stern gaze with her emerald eyes. "I thought you were dead."

"Hate to break it you, sweetheart, I'm not."

"Don't call me that," her eyes narrowed. "What game are you playing?"

Alexei stood in the doorframe, blocking one of her escape routes. "I wouldn't go out the other way either." He stepped across the threshold and nodded to an invisible source. "I've been watching you." The ex-aviator saw several red lights converge onto the Black Widow. "You're coming with me."

"The hell I am," she darted at him, ignoring the increasing red lasers on her. She threw her weight against his massive form, but the charges from her gloves didn't even faze him. She twisted around him and kicked herself up against the wall for another attack, but fell short, as she felt stings pierce through her clothing and stung her back.

…

Under the cover of darkness, a caravan of sedans snaked its way through the old city. A mixture of ancient stonewalls clashed with modernism. He peered through the tinted windows. The Parliament building sat on the edge of the Danube River. The ever-changing waters captured the white and gold lights that were casted onto the liquid surface. In the distance, the Buda Castle sat upon Castle Hill and overlooked the river with its medieval elements. In its heyday, King Matthias Corvinus brought out the true beauty of the castle, and now museums and the national library dwell in the confines along with the Lion's Gate.

Everything was falling into place. He glanced at his precious cargo, and ran a finger along her jawline. A soft vibration came from his cellphone, stealing the moment from him. "Do you have her?" Alexei waited several seconds for a reply.

"Yes." The line disconnected abruptly.

…

**Thanks for reading, and thank you to my reviewers from last chapter: Brandi, jinxcharm, and IcarusOwl. As promised, electronic chocolate chip cookies to you three! **

**We finally made it to Budapest! It only took 26 chapters to get to here. What does Alexei have up his sleeves? How many thought he was dead? **

**Please review, I would love to hear from you all. I'm hoping to hit 150 reviews that's my ultimate goal. So send some love please! **

**Until next time…**


	27. Chapter 27

Locked doors seemed to be the flavor of the week. Steve narrowed his eyes at the shroud of secrecy. Peggy had disappeared and left him in the hands of Dr. Erskine. The German scientist sat at his desk, polishing off a circular shield.

"Got the jitters?" he looked up with a crooked smile. He pulled out his pipe as the last of the grayish smoke dwindled.

"No, of course not." He hid the feeling behind his smile. "What is that?"

"I've been working on for the longest time." He dropped the cloth on the table. "I'll show you something." He walked out from his workstation and returned with cache of rifles and guns. "Bring that, will you?"

Steve looked at the sheet metal. "You've got to be kidding me."

Dr. Erskine smirked. "Patience my boy." He rounded up his cache and headed out to the shooting range. He plucked the shield from Rogers' hands and situated his creation on a post. "You might want to wear these."

Steve caught the eye protectors. He still wasn't sure what the quiet scientist was up to. "I think you're crazy."

"No, not crazy at all." He grabbed the riffle. "Stand aside and watch." He wrapped his finger around the trigger and fired several rounds into the target. The bullets sparked against the metal, as Steve watched in awe. "Don't move it." This time a red beam struck the metal.

Through the pyrotechnic show, Steve tried to wrap his mind around how this was possible. After the demonstration, he ran over to the deceptive shield. "How?"

Dr. Erskine rounded up the weapons and walked up to the young man. "My little secret." He ran his fingers along the cold metal. "Would look at that, not a single knick."

"Impressive." He had his arms crossed on his chest.

"I know."

"Does Agent Carter know?"

The German looked at him with a twinkle in his eyes, "Not quite yet," he deviously smiled. "She'll know eventually. This will be our little secret."

…

The lack of communication was killing him, as he continued his vigil over the hammer. It had been at least 24 hours since their last conversation. He desperately wanted to leave his post and just plop himself in front of a computer screen to wait for his partner. The cool rain pelted against his bare arms and ran down onto his vest.

_Fuck this_.

Thunder boomed in the distance with random flashes cutting across. The rain intensified, sending sharp pricks against his arms. He punched a button and launched his basket across the excavation site.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a figure stumbling through the plastic drapes. He grabbed an arrow from his quiver and steadied his bow. The string increased in tension while his keen eyesight honed in on his unsuspecting target. By now, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent laid unconscious on the softened sand and dirt.

The Hawk leaned closer from his vantage point. To his amazement, he recognized the grunts that came from the intruder. It was the same grunts he heard during Tony's tennis match with his partner. The archer paused for a brief moment to ascertain the situation. Lately, he had a streak of letting his targets go. Coulson probably didn't appreciate the massive paper trail. He kept his arrow's tip locked onto the burly form that was now covered in mud, but through the downpour, he made out the blond locks.

_The electronic ring signaled another class was over. Clint gathered his books and jetted out of lit class. He didn't want to cross paths with Nat that morning or even the afternoon. For if she saw him, he knew she would take things into her own hands. He avoided all the hallways that she would be using._

"_Where do you think you're going?" Thor appeared around the corner. _

"_Geesh, get out of my way." He skidded to halt before colliding into the tennis star._

"_What did you do? Where's Lady Natasha?" _

"_Thor, I need to leave now." The young teen tried to get away from his meddling friend. _

_The blond looked at Barton's new shiner. Lately, he has been noticing more of the bruises. "Come with me." Thor dragged Clint to the courts outside. "And now sit." _

"_I can't stay long…Barney is going to be mad." _

"_Screw him," Thor plunged his bag on the bleachers. The metal creaked under the weight. The blond fished for an elusive box of pop tarts he stashed earlier in the day until he caught the familiar blue top. "Want one?" _

"_Nah." _

_Thor took a bite from the pastry and swallowed hard, "You're lucky to have her as a friend." _

"_I know." _

"_And you know that you have friends here as well." _

"_Thanks for the pep talk." _

_The tennis god laughed as he took another bite from the sweet pastry. "Barton, help will always come to you if you ask." _

"_Easier said than done." _

_By now, Tony sauntered onto the court with his bag in tow. "Alright pretty boy, time to settle a score." _

"_If you'll excuse me, I need to teach Stark a lesson." _

Hawkeye came out his flashback and lowered his arrow. He watched the massive form claw back up on his feet. A small smile escaped his hardened features, "Go get it, Thor," he whispered in between the raindrops. The marksman eyed out for any other agents that may hinder his friend's attempt in retrieving the hammer.

He listened for any commotion down below. And there was a foreign sound of metal grinding. Soon after, the sound of a freight train roaring increased intensity. On instinct, he punched a button and sent his basket reeling on the zip line. A bolt of lightning split the heavens wide open as he watched Thor control the elements. "Oh shit."

…

The stench of ammonia and waste clouded her sense of smell. Bobbie rubbed her head as her vision came to. The last thing she remembered was walking on the pier back in Manhattan and listening to the voice of her fiancé.

Her hands wearily wrapped against the silver bars and she pulled herself up from the floor. The hallway was barely lit except for an occasional floodlight that pierced the darkness. She held her tongue in case someone was guarding her prison. The S.H.I.E.L.D. agent mapped out her cell until she fell upon a set of muted red curls. "Natasha," her voice in shock and above a whisper. Quickly, she turned the unconscious master assassin over.

The red head spat out several curses until she came to, "That bastard." She sprang up from her position, not knowing Mockingbird was with her. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Hello to you too, cellmate."

"Where are we?"

"Not a clue." The blonde leaned against the wall. "This is definitely not Manhattan."

Footsteps echoed in the corridor. "I see that the both of your are awake now." Alexei stood at the opposite side of the steel bars.

"What do you want?" The Black Widow spat at him with rage.

"Patience my dear, Natalia." He paused, "Your temperament hasn't changed at all."

"Go fuck yourself."

The gates opened and Alexei pushed her against the jagged walls. His hand enclosed over her throat, "You see my dear, I also have the serum now." He pushed her further into the wall, while she clawed at his iron grip. Another guard walked in and took Bobbi. "As for you, Mockingbird, we have a surprise for you," his eyes narrowed.

The marine biologist walked out of the cell with a guard. After she was out of earshot, she immediately put her training into use by twisting the metallic cuffs around her captor's neck. She continued pressure before he fainted from the lack of oxygen. "Sweet dreams," she mocked at him. She fished for the key and found the brass object.

Quickly, she ran to an outcropping and surveyed the corridor. Her footsteps teetered over the wires that were camouflaged in the clay colored gravel. She continued the choreography until something caught her attention. A form slipped in and out of the shadows. She felt the adrenaline surge through her body as she dove for cover.

She held her breath as the figure walked closer towards her hiding spot. She felt her heartbeat galloping in her chest, and she could've sworn that her heart would give her away.

"Bobbi?"

_Don't listen to him…it's a trap._ She thought it over and over again. Just to hear his voice sent her into a tailspin. _Don't do it, Bobbi_. She replayed Alexei's short conversation in her mind. The way he looked at her sent shivers up and down her spine.

"I know you're here, Bobbi." The voice pierced the silence. "Come out."

She cocked the gun that she stole from the guard, and stepped out from the safety of her hiding place. The floodlight captured her blonde hair as she stood out from the shadows. Her gun was pointed at her fiancé, "Kevin," she whispered.

"Put that down."

"I'm not going to." She held her finger on the trigger. "Where have you been?"

"I'm not sure." A look of confusion flashed across his eyes, as he stood there in a crisp white shirt and jeans.

"I don't believe you." She walked further away from him. "Stay back, I'm warning you." She shot at him, grazing his right arm.

"It's me."

"I said stay back!" Her voice echoed against the rocks. "You can't be him."

"I am him" he walked closer towards the blonde. "I've always been him." Ice blue eyes stared at her.

She fired until the cartridge was empty. Kevin still walked his way towards her unscathed.

…

The master spy held an uneasy feeling in his chest. All day he had it, and he couldn't shake it off. He cut his meeting short with some fellow S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and returned to his quarters. The communication blackout with his star pupil wasn't unheard of. Old age had given him wisdom and insight, but years in the field were sending off alarms in his mind.

He was there in the conference room, when the Black Widow fired off the first warning. The second warning came in the form of a white rose with red splattered on its outer petals. He found it earlier in the morning at his quarter's doorstep. Someone was working for the other side.

Ivan went back to his computer and dug deeper into the files. Alexei must've had left some trail. He typed away and ran a search profile, as the program crunched out random decoding scripts. Interestingly, it was pinging back to the super soldier serum. The smoking gun was finally revealed to him as the file recently accessed two days ago. Alexei had managed to break through his safeguards.

"Director, there's something else you need to know," he spoke into the receiver.

"Go on."

"He's been after the serum all this time." There was a knock on his door. "The signals coming from Europe. My computer is still narrowing it down."

Agent Hill walked into Fury's office, nearly running over several assistants. "Sir, there's been a security breach."

"Where?" He covered the receiver with his hand.

"At the excavation site and here. We need to evacuate."

"Ivan, whatever you do…" The phone went silent. "What the hell is going on?" He looked at the system controls. "Initiate Code BRAVO."

Immediately, yellow lights flashed throughout S.H.I.E.L.D.'s confines. Ivan ignored his door as he tried to squeeze out the last bits of information from his program. Someone was trying to shut him down. "Just a little bit more." He typed a computer code and tried to scramble the malware. His old eyes looked to where the triangulation was occurring and it hovered over Estonia and eventually to Budapest.

The door burst open as he punched a message to Fury, hoping he would get it. A pair of ice blue eyes stared at him with a gun in hand. "Dasvidanya."

Agent Hill an as fast as she could to the housing quarters. She heard several shots were fired but through the chaos, everyone looked the same. She assessed the area before charging through and only found Ivan crumpled over at his desk with his hand still on the keyboard. "Sir, he's dead," she relayed the message through her earpiece.

Meanwhile across the compound, Steve was beside himself as the warning blared out. Dr. Erskine ran back into his small workstation and destroyed any evidence that would implicate himself to his projects. "Carry this, I'll get the serum." He handed him the silver shield.

Peggy managed to sneak through the front gates, "What bloody meaning is all of this?" She went to her desk, "I leave for a few hours and this is what happens. Honestly…"

"What's a Code BRAVO?" Steve stood awkwardly with the shield in his hands.

"There's been a security breach." She shut down the laptops and grabbed various folders. "What on earth are you carrying?"

"I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders. "Compliments from Dr. Erskine."

Agent Carter continued to tear the office down. "We better get a move on it. Whatever is going on, we need to find a secure location."

The shield vibrated in his grasp as he deflected a residual blast from the outside. "That's a little too close." Steve was too preoccupied as Dr. Erskine snuck his way behind the unknowing test subject. "Ouch," he looked behind him to find the scientist holding an empty syringe.

"I think it's the perfect time to test the serum now," he smiled sheepishly.

"Thanks for warning."

"Don't mention it."

Steve felt a slow undulating wave that ran throughout his body. "What are the side effects?"

"Per the notes or per the trials?"

"I don't care."

"Temporary nausea and malaise."

The blond still maintained his grasp on the shield. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Peggy cried out from her jeep, "We need to leave now!"

…

Barton received the distress call from the base. Seeing that his little assignment was in good hands, he jetted back to the main compound. Agents scurried to their exit routes but in the middle of all the chaos, he found Director Fury. By the look of the ageless man, it wasn't good. "You need to head to Budapest." The archer felt a knot form in the pit of the stomach. "You'll get more of the mission details on the ride there. Grab whatever supplies you need. There's a jet waiting for you."

The marksman complied with Fury's directive. He tossed the last of his equipment in the back of jet and made his way up front. "Who the hell are you?"

"Bucky Barnes…part of Strike Team Gamma." The soldier saluted the infamous Hawk and handed him a manila folder.

"Stay out of my way." Clint walked back to end of the jet and fired up his computer along pulled out the paperwork. He checked his inbox and found a message from Fury already. He clicked on the link.

Alexei was in the center of the screen. "Greetings, S.H.I.E.L.D. We finally come face to face. I believe these are your two missing agents, Black Widow and Mockingbird." The camera panned to the Black Widow, where she was tied to a post with her red curls cascaded down her shoulders. Another image flashed across the screen with Mockingbird fending herself from her dead fiancé. Alexei walked over to the Black Widow, "We'll be waiting for you." He plunged a knife into her abdomen as she stifled her scream.

"Save Bobbi," she cried out, looking directly into the camera's lens.

Clint felt a knot form in the pit of stomach as he watched helplessly.

…

**Brandi – I guess we'll have to find out from the next chapter. **

**Jinxcharm – I think maybe three more chapters are left. **

**Joanna C – Thanks for your review and comments. Originally, this story was supposed to be on the origin of Black Widow and Hawkeye, but then I figured why not get the other Avengers involved. I hope you passed your midterm! **

**TheNaggingCube – I think everyone shares your sentiments on this one. **

**Alrighty peeps, thanks again for reading, reviewing, and adding this story to your fave lists or story alerts. Don't forget about the Oscars tomorrow night. **

**Reviews please!**

**Until next time… **


	28. Chapter 28

She coughed up a smattering of blood. The steel cuffs dug into her porcelain skin as she fought against him. "You know it's not going to work," a deadly gleam was in her emerald eyes.

"Really?" He deflected the conversation back to her. "At this moment, S.H.I.E.L.D. is being attacked and your mentor is dead."

"Lies." Her eyes wandered over to a video feed that captured the chaos at the base. The video switched to Ivan's quarters with agents removing his body.

"I don't think your friend is going to make it either. It seems her fiancé has the upper hand at the moment."

She fought against the restraints. "What's your play, Alexei? Mind games won't work if you're following Ivan's old tricks."

Her former husband went over to a small tray and pulled out another blade. "I know you have been unfaithful to me."

"You're not my husband," she spoke in Russian. One of the links became undone, as she distracted him. "You expected me to wait for you?"

"We can be great together again."

"That's your delusion of grandeur." She felt another link become undone by her wrists.

"It's a pity, Natalia." He ran his hands through her red curls and watched her eyes narrow in reaction. "It looks like your wounds are already healing."

"Don't touch me."

"You leave me no choice then." He pulled out a blue jewel from a black box.

"What is that?" She turned her head to the side and leapt out of her chair, ready to knock out the unknown weapon from his hands.

"A gift." Forest green eyes evaporated to a deep azure, while at the same time, the blue jewel dissipated into thin air.

…

The adrenaline pumped through his veins. He was getting used to his non-existent sleep cycle. Eventually he knew he was going to crash and burn, but before then, he needed to get her back. The plane ride to Budapest was the longest he remembered. Agent Barnes was already gearing up. His main mission was to rescue Mockingbird.

Barton checked his recurve bow for the umpteenth time on the ride. The archer didn't want any misfires to happen on his watch. He pulled out a small container and placed his hearing aids in. Only one more pair remained. He'll just have to order several more and put them under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s tab.

"Fancy meeting you here, Agent Barton. I take the ride was uneventful."

"Just cut to the crap, Coulson."

"Right." The group headed to the temporary mobile unit. "We already established tracking units on the both of them." He pulled up a computer image of the old building. "Agent Romanoff is located in the basement, while Agent Morse is located by the old tunnel system." The two beacons blinked simultaneously on the cerulean hologram. "I figure you're going to go after _her." _

He swung his quiver around his back and snapped open his bow. "Barnes, you know where you're going?"

"Affirmative."

"You might need this," Coulson tossed the archer a syringe. "You'll know when to use it. You only got one shot."

The two teams converged at the entrance. Their torches were dimmed, as the faint rays swept across the walls looking for hidden traps and triggers. Rats scurried along the crumbling walls with their high-pitched cries against their new visitors. The beacons pinged on their screen as they drew closer to each of their targets.

Bucky knelt down, eyeing the empty passageway. His eyes scanned the walls and tunnel, trying to pick up any possible traps. He armed himself with his newly minted blaster gun from S.H.I.E.L.D. He signaled to his team to halt as well, and right when they paused, all hell broke loose. Array of bullets whizzed by, splattering rock and dirt with metal shrapnel above their heads. "Strike Team Gamma under fire, " he yelled into his mic. He crawled to another outcropping and leaned against it for protection. He punched a random button on his blaster and watched the fireball drop to the other end, sending an eruption of flames and explosions. He laughed to himself, seeing that he was given a demo for the weapon he was carrying. "I have got to get me one of these," he cradled it close to his chest and fired away, clearing the path for this team to continue.

Barton listened in on the firefight, while quickening his pace. The tight corners were becoming narrow. He tossed aside his night vision goggles and used his own sight to maneuver around the foreign territory. He leaned against a wall and caught his breath momentarily to assess the situation. 100 meters…that was the distance that separated the two of them. He couldn't be reckless, but, how many times was he that way to begin with? He had lost count. The common denominator always began with her and it would always end with her, even if she hadn't figured it out yet. There was no denying the fact any longer. He would just be lying to himself, but he can easily conceal the feeling with his stoic façade to protect their relationship. _One…two…three_… He punched a button on his bow and launched the arrow through the tight corner. A gapping hole formed upon impact.

…

The floor rumbled beneath them, as Bobbi grew weary at the sight before her. She was running out of options. She was down to her last cartridge…seven bullets. _This totally sucks. _She drew a deep breath and wiped at the sweat from her forehead.

"Give up yet?" He was merely four feet in front of her with hardly a scratch on his skin.

She laughed at him, "Let's continue this dance, shall we?"

A wicked smile escaped, "Only for you, my darling."

The blonde analyzed his stance and form. It seemed like someone else was controlling his body. The movements were jerky and broken. His body collided into hers, as another explosion rocked the ground. The wind was knocked away from her lungs as he landed on top of her. The gun she had earlier skidded across the archway. A sharp pain came from her back, but she ignored the nagging feeling. She clawed at his face and watched the sharp blue eyes grow in ferocity and intensity. It was not her Kevin.

She reached out to grab any loose rocks and found a hefty one that fit into her palm. Immediately, she smashed it against his temple, rendering him unconscious. She shoved his body off of hers and went out to grab the gun. She spun on her heels with another pain coming from her right ankle just as Clint came running across the opposite end of the tunnel with his arrow locked in.

The two agents stood there in shock. "Why are you here?" Bobbi leaned against the wall with her gun pointed at her supposedly dead fiancé. She was at a loss for words before breaking the ice, "As usual, the cavalry is always late." A low moan escaped from the body on the floor. "Don't shoot him, Agent Barton. Put the arrow down."

He kept his grasp on his on his bow, "You got the situation under control?"

"I don't know." The adrenaline was starting wear off. "I can use another Glock, if you have one." The Hawk easily obliged her wish. "I can handle this."

He was hesitant to leave her. "Use this in case." He threw the handcuffs with the keys towards her.

"You better go. I don't know what Alexei has up his sleeves, but it can't be good."

…

Strike Team Gamma started to thin out, as Bucky made his way closer to the beacon. Somewhere in the firefight, he had lost communication with Barton and the others. Whoever was causing all of this…they were forcing their hand in changing the game. The brunette leaned against another corner and quickly swept his torch light across. The last of the explosions were set off, but he couldn't help the feeling that someone was watching him from the shadows.

"Who do we have here?" The Red Guardian stepped in front of him. "You're not the one I was expecting." A flash of disappointment swept across his face.

"I'm guessing you're Shostakov." Bucky kept his gun pointed at the infamous aviator and assassin.

"Where is she?"

"You mean the Black Widow. She's here...somewhere."

"Show me."

He laughed menacingly at the simple command. "As you wish."

Quick footsteps were heard from all around. Bucky retrained his blaster at the emptiness. Now he was in for it. His senses heightened, but it was nowhere near her capabilities. He remembered reading her file on the plane ride and did his research on the number of her kills while working with the Soviets. He opened Pandora's box.

The Red Guardian escaped through the back tunnels, leaving the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent to fend for himself. His plan was falling into place. "Where do you think you're going?" The sniper was hot on his heels. "Leaving so soon?"

"The Hawk finally graces his appearance," the Russian turned around. "You should be helping out your newfound teammate."

"I have a score to settle with you first." He trained his arrow on his target and fired away, only to be caught right before it entered Alexei's chest.

"Is that all you got?" He snapped the metal into two shards.

The Hawk growled and restrung another arrow, but an explosion sent him to the ground. A high-pitched sound emitted in both of his ears. Through the muffled sounds, Alexei mocked him, "I did my homework as well, Barton." He sent off another explosion and watched the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent double over in pain. "Had enough?"

Clint reached up on the rocky walls with shaky hands. The constant ringing made him disoriented and he tumbled back to the ground. He yanked out his hearing aids and decided to rely on his other senses. It was useless to use his last pair, since he was going to need it later. "My turn," he charged at the ex-aviator and wrapped his bow around his neck. The carbon material maintained its strength as the archer put more of his weight into the assault. He ignored the constant buzzing from his ears, as he felt a wave of nausea roll through. "What the hell did you do the Black Widow?" The Russian remained quiet throughout the interrogation. "Not going to answer?" He reached into his belt and pulled out a syringe. He pulled at the cap with his teeth and spat the cap back to the ground. He plunged the syringe into his enemy's neck, sending him reeling in pain as the liquid burned. "Answer me."

"Why don't you go find out yourself?"

He released his prey from the death vice and watched the fallen soldier crawl on his arms away from him. Leaving nothing to chance, he fired an arrow into Alexei. The Red Guardian was no more.

…

Bucky twisted against the metal staircase and reassessed the situation. His left arm had a trail of blood leading down to his fingertips. The pinpricks intensified with the pain, as he readjusted his blaster at his side. The Black Widow had sneaked up behind him and maimed him with a knife. The room fell back into silence. She was the trained assassin, trying to catch him in her deadly web.

His eyes searched every nook and crevice, but she was concealed too well. Occasionally, flashes of red caught his attention, or so he thought. He sent an explosion to the opposite corner, hoping to trap her.

"Agent Barnes," Clint found a way to sneak into the room. "Status report."

"Hostile." He winced in pain. The makeshift tourniquet wasn't doing the job. The Hawk reached above the wound and synched up the loose fabric. "She's hiding."

He peered at the empty room. "You need to evac now before you have more blood loss."

"I can stay."

"I'm ordering you to leave with your team." Bucky looked at him with some shock and disbelief. "That's an order." The sniper stared down the younger agent until he finally got up. "Follow the tunnel back there."

Clint gazed out into the playing field. It was his game now. Sooner or later, the Black Widow would get impatient. He popped in his last set of hearing aids and listened for her footfalls.

Outside, Coulson paced back and forth. He didn't like that he was out of the loop for the past three hours. The communication link broke early in the raid. He popped several tums in his mouth. Already Agent Morse and Kevin emerged from the building. S.H.I. . agents immediately swept the Brit into a holding area to watch for signs of any hostility. Bobbi looked on in disbelief. In the past twenty-four hours, her world changed and slowly she began to realize it was no longer a dream, but a reality…he was back.

An officer shouted, "Sir, Strike Team Gamma is emerging."

Coulson ran over to the entrance and found part of the team limping out. "We need a medic now," he called out, as Bucky collapsed at the entrance.

"Hawkeye and the Black Widow are still inside," his voice strained above the rush of medics and personnel. "The Black Widow is hostile."

…

The Hawk continued his vigil from his vantage point. Occasionally, he picked up the sounds of rats pattering against the wall's edges. Sooner or later, he knew she would make the fatal move. From their sparring matches back in high school and at headquarters, she would show her character flaw of impatience, but just as quickly, she made up for it in attack and precision.

A flash of red curls highlighted by a sliver of light came from the corner. Clint fired silently and watched the arrow pin her to the wall. He walked to the area and kept another arrow trained on her. He was shocked to see deep blue eyes staring right at him.

"Let me go," she growled like a feral cat that was being cornered.

"It's me, Clint."

She yanked the arrow out of her shoulder and lunged at him. Her petite frame collided into him…all 110 pounds of her. She pinned him to the ground with her knees locked around his face and neck, while she reached for a knife that Alexei had left on the ground. A coat of fresh blood caught fragments of the light. She lowered the blade against his carotid with several droplets of ruby falling onto his neck, but she was met with resistance. "Snap out of it, Nat," he gritted his teeth. His hands wrapped around her own.

"Die."

He pulled his legs and kicked at her back, distracting her. He was on his feet in no time and caught his breath. He grabbed his bow and sent another arrow whizzing over her head, and exploded above her. A cascade of rocks fell and she dropped to the ground. For a moment, he thought he had her, but her small frame rose from the rubble. Several trails of blood marred her face, but ice blue eyes glared back at him.

"Hn." He reached to his quiver and only three arrows remained. He had to change methods. He lashed at her with his bow, countering her aikido and ninjutsu techniques. The two danced their way, trading strikes and swings.

He ducked underneath one of her joint locks and kicked at her ankle, sending her on her back, but she bounded back up in seconds with a half spring. She swung around a pole and dropped kicked him, knocking his bow out of his hand in the process.

He wiped away the blood at the corner of his lip. "Fine then," he muttered. In a surprise move, he reached out and grabbed his bow again. The arrow imploded behind her, sending her careening into a table. He stood over her and watched to see if she would awaken, but she didn't.

He knelt down and wrapped her arm around his neck, as he dragged her to a standing position. To him, the walk was the longest part of the mission. He felt her breaths running across his cheek as he shifted her weight by his side.

Coulson stood by the entrance with a radio transmitter. His knuckles had turned white for holding the device tightly. He heard boots crunching against the gravel and he peered into the entrance. Relief spread across his face to see his charges were alive, but the unlikely pair had red lights trained on them, "Stand down," he shouted against the snipers. Little by little the red dots faded out, and Phil walked up to Clint, "Finish the job?"

"The Red Guardian is dead."

"Excellent."

"Let's go home." Clint continued to carry his partner to one of the ambulances. He gently laid her on the gurney, as the medical team flocked to them.

Loki stood in the comfort of darkness from a church rooftop, along with his staff in his hand. He watched the mewling quims tend to their wounded. "Pathetic." The Grandmaster he was at best, he had controlled all the pieces on the board up until now. He had an interesting perspective in the minds that he affected, but he couldn't crack one. It was just a precursor to his grand scheme of things. He had the Tesseract to thank for transporting him to Asgard to realize his true potential. He felt the power surge in the staff, but first, there was a little score to settle with Thor. He willed his staff and transported himself using the dark magic.

…

He was getting used to medical by now. It was an all too familiar place. He leaned against the doorframe, waiting for her to awaken. A week went by after the Budapest incident, but it was still fresh in his mind.

Bobbi hobbled up to him with a casted leg. "How is she?"

"Stable," his gaze remained in the room. "Yourself?"

"I didn't realize I fractured my ankle in the whole process." She tried to make some small talk with him.

"How's Kevin?"

"Memory is a bit foggy, but it's coming along."

"Hmm."

She paused in their conversation, hoping to make amends from their past encounters, "No hard feelings alright?"

He laughed at the afterthought of how they ended their relationship, "Get out of here." He watched her swing her leg in time with the crutches, heading down the hall to Kevin's room.

The hours rolled by, morphing into an early sunset. Barton managed to catch a couple of hours of shuteye at her bedside. He was afraid that if he left, he might miss her waking up. A faint hint of stubble coalesced on his chin. His body still ached from the bruises he received from her scuffle, but he had worse.

He reached out to her hand and wrapped his calloused fingers around her own. The bed shifted slightly and his demeanor changed. He held his breath in anticipation.

Green eyes flashed opened to the dimming light. Immediately she retracted her hand from his own, "Who are you?" staring directly into his shocked gray eyes.

…

**Yikes…this was the longest chapter in this story! Oh the plot twists...lets out an evil laugh. I'm in the middle of getting ready for my trip to Vegas.**

**We're in the final home stretch. Thank you for your continued support! **

**Reviews please! They'll make me a happy camper, since I'll be on call for the next two Sundays. **

**Until next time…**


	29. Chapter 29

Faceless silhouettes framed the massive screens, while Nick Fury was under the four pairs of prying eyes. "I'm disappointed in you, Director." A black shadow spoke, "You weren't authorized to initiate Strike Team Delta."

Another voice interjected, "What is this anomaly we have been detecting in the past three weeks?"

The ageless man waited in silence, as he continued to take the brunt of the Council's questions. He waited for the opportune time to speak. "S.H.I.E.L.D. has prevented a global catastrophe. The Red Room's Super-Soldier Serum would've been leaked if it wasn't for the team."

"I understand one of the team members is currently compromised. Explain."

"She has no current memory. I have my people working on that issue."

A deep masculine figure sat in the shadows, "Explain Directive 1771. I thought that research was shut down."

"It was part of the Super-Soldier Serum program for the United States. S.H.I.E.L.D. acquired a defector from the Red Room prior to Delta's formation. He was instrumental in reinitiating the directive."

The Council remained silent as the group stared back to the ex-CIA agent. A female voice spoke for the majority, "We'll be watching you, Director. If you are out of line, your program will be disavowed and all operations will cease." The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo appeared on the monitors.

He left the room with more wrinkles to his brow line, but he noticed his two faithful agents stood by the doorway.

"How did it go, sir?" Agent Hill glanced up at him.

"A bunch of pompous asses. You can say no news is good news."

"What are we going to do with Agent Romanoff?" Phil interjected into the conversation. "The team doesn't believe her amnesia is related to the serum that Shostakov injected into her."

"Agent Hill, I'm assigning you to her." He started to walk ahead of them, "And keep Agent Barton away from her."

"Sir…it sounds counterproductive, don't you think?" Maria gazed at her superior officer, wondering what his train of thought was. Yes, the agent still had a slight grudge against the Russian spy, but she wasn't heartless. Not by a long shot. She had seen how the Black Widow interacted with Hawkeye.

"Not at this moment. I don't need two compromised agents. Strike Team Delta didn't start off with a bang." He pulled out his tablet, "There was a strange emission coming from Budapest right after her video feed aired."

"Is it the Tesseract?" She looked over scans with Phil as well, remembering her days spent back in Sao Paulo tracking the elusive blue cube.

"Most likely." He looked around in the temporary headquarters. The helicarrier barely made it out of the desert southwest, but she was sound as she made her way to the eastern seaboard. "We'll need to track it."

"Well look at that." Stark appeared on the bridge, interrupting the agents. He was pleased to see that his technology was holding up. "The bird can fly."

"How did you get here?"

"Let's see…after being nearly killed in New Mexico…and mind you…I was just dropping off technical specs for a software upgrade. This fine officer helped me out of the hell hole." He pointed to Colonel James Rhodes who stood in the background, gathering intelligence data of the recent commotions from the Navajo desert. "You might as well say it was a training incident. That's the usual cover right?" Rhodey ignored him. They were becoming fast friends in the short span of time. "You know where to find me, Fury." He started to walk away from the bridge, "I'll be out of the country. Call me if you need anything else."

Fury shook his head and began to focus on the task at hand before his phone vibrated. "Sir, Agent Carter reporting. We're safe. Directive 1771 is active. Serum conversion is a success."

"Keep me informed."

"Will do."

Both Hill and Coulson looked from their vantage point, waiting patiently for their boss to return back into their conversation. "So how are we going to go about this situation?"

"It will all depend on _her._"

…

He chucked his keys across the reflective surface and they ended up colliding into a corner. The past two hours were a blur to him with a flurry of security guards escorting him out of her room. The sense of fear and uncertainty clung to her green orbs. All he wanted was to have her back entirely. He punched into the glass mirror that hung in the hallway, sending the shards clattering to the ground. Mindlessly, he picked at the jagged edges.

"_Who are you?" _The simple phrase replayed over in his mind.

He walked through his barely used New York apartment with the night skyline projected through the windows. Somewhere out there, she remained in her room under 24-hour watch.

There was a knock on his door. The archer crossed to the foyer and eyed Fury through the surveillance camera.

"What?" He pulled aside the door.

"We need to talk about logistics."

"Funny, you say that." He unbolted the door and let him in.

The ageless man dropped a box on the countertop. "I know you're not happy with the outcome. It wasn't something we expected." The archer crossed his arms on his chest. "You're not going to like what I have to say." A brief pause separated the two as he noticed Clint's bloodied left knuckle. "I'm ordering you to stay away from her."

"What!"

"It's a delicate situation. The Council is already aware."

"And what if I don't?" He challenged his current boss. "You'll lock me up somewhere. Is this how they're going to re-condition her? Make her become an ultimate weapon. Just like what the Red Room tried to do."

"I'm putting Agent Hill on the case."

"Screw the Council and S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You're on a fine line, Barton. I'll be watching." Fury made his way to the door.

"What's this crap?" He pointed to the box, seeing he was getting nowhere in the conversation.

"They're some of Agent Romanoff's belongings from her globe trotting days." Fury closed the door behind him without saying another word.

Clint was beside himself again in the loneliness of his apartment. Seeing Fury made his blood boil. There was no winning with the man. He scooped up the box along with a bottle of vodka and went outside to his hideout on the rooftop. A sharp wind cut from the north and carried the scent of the city with it.

The clear liquid burned his throat and brought some warmth from the night. He glanced at the box, wondering if he should dive into her personal items. His hands reached down and pulled several items up. A vial of lemon-tinged liquid caught the moonlight, and he dumped it back into the box. There was a stockpile of books ranging from poetry to dramas. He thumbed through one of the paperbacks until a folded letter along with a dried, fiery maple leaf fell onto his jeans. In the silver beams, he recognized her cursive handwriting.

_It has been 18 hours, and the sun is breaking over the tree line. The red-eyed cicadas are buzzing in the background. I couldn't sleep last night and I thought this would help. I never have been much for words. It hurt me to see you drive off with your grandmother. Truth is…I had to make your nightmare stop. If you hate me for that, then so be it._

_I stood by the blue curtains ignoring your last words. You know me by now that I don't listen to people. For a brief moment, I thought I blew my cover as I saw you turn around in your seat. _

_I'm going to miss the way you look at me with your gray eyes, and that mischievous grin that appears for no reason. I'm not sure what this is going to be, but I'm damn well sure that if we ever cross our paths again, we'll figure it out. You found me once before…you'll find me again. _

_Thank you for being my friend. _

The gravity of their relationship was closing in, but it gave him hope that he desperately clung to. It reminded him of their conversation back in the airport when she was leaving for South America before all the craziness happened. He downed another shot and sat on the rooftop, taking in the city's nightlife. He'll play along with Fury's rules, but the Director didn't mention about watching her from a distance. A small smile graced his hard facial features. He had found his loophole.

…

**Two months later**

Her fingers curled against the Glock's barrel. Green eyes narrowed at the smoke screen, but she saw her target through the coalescing wisps. Without thinking, her body moved and sprung from the corner. She fired and hit her target directly into the chest. Already, her eyes were searching for the second target, while a small mannequin appeared out of nowhere. Her finger retracted from the trigger for a split second until she caught the flash. She catapulted herself in mid run and launched herself with a backhand spring, dodging sniper attacks.

Hill watched from the sidelines as the Black Widow finished the course. "Pretty impressive, Romanoff."

She reached over into her duffel and pulled out a towel. "Where did that all come from?"

"Instinct," she jotted a few notes down onto the computer tablet. "You're almost at your personal best."

"I did this before?"

"Pretty sure." The brunette secured the testing area, "I will see you again tomorrow."

Clint had silently watched her from the rafters above. Everything about her was still there. He punched a button on his comm link, Maria spoke in the seclusion of her office. "Still no progress, Barton. Sorry."

He didn't have to say anything. The silence said it all for him. He leaned on the railing, while watching her stash her weapons the way she used to. She paused momentarily, pulling back at the red waves that cascaded down from her ponytail. Clint retreated to the shadows, but his stormy gray eyes noticed she was staring up to where he stood a few seconds ago. A flicker of hope teased his mind, but it would never come to pass. She quietly left the training room with her bag, her hand reached out to flip the light switch.

…

Autumn had snuck up on the city's occupants. The leaves in Central Park were turning in shades of mandarin orange and ruby. The moon was riding high as he traversed the city block back to his apartment. Automatically he dropped his duffle bag by the front door with his quiver rolling out from the opening. He darted to his window and looked across the busy street. The archer sat on the window's ledge with his legs propped up and he waited. Slowly, one by one, lights turned on. Natasha went to her window and pulled the curtains aside. She stood there with her black coat with a mint scarf wrapped around her neck, never knowing that her longtime friend was guarding her.

There was one spot that came to his mind, and tomorrow will be the day to intervene, whether Fury liked it or not.

…

**Survived my Vegas trip, and I saw KA. The show was awesome! **

**Alright peeps, I did have some downtime to update. There is one more chapter left! Did anyone notice something about the numbers? And where do you think Clint is taking Natasha? **

**Leave a review, it would mean a lot to me. **

**To those who celebrate Easter, I hope you have a wonderful holiday. **


	30. Chapter 30

"You're not supposed to be here, Agent Barton." The senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent stood in front of Romanoff. "I have direct orders from Fury."

"I'm pulling her out of class," he shoved the brunette aside, as he went out to reach for the bewildered redhead's wrist.

"You again," she tried to yank her hand back, but felt his fingers dig into her porcelain flesh. "What do you want?"

"You need to come with me." He pulled her to his side, "S.H.I.E.L.D. owes me one." He gave a cold stare towards Hill, warning her to back down.

"I thought you disappeared," she seethed.

"Never," he retorted.

On reflex, she slipped out of his grasp and tried to flip Barton onto his back with her legs wrapped around his neck. She thought she had the upper hand, but then she noticed something as she lost her center of gravity. Barton had countered her attack with his own, as he snuck his hand into her fiery curls and yanked her head back. The pair both landed onto the ground with Clint straddling her back. "You're coming with me, whether you like it or not." His voice bounced off in the hallway. "Trust me."

Her slender hands pounded against the tiled floor and she conceded the match. She waited for him to get off of her, but it felt like minutes before he did. Slowly, she could feel the air rush through her lungs once more, "Fine then." She had met her match and she stormed off to the women's locker room to gather her things.

…

A trail of dust trailed behind the jeep. It was a marathon drive from New York's skyline to where he was going. He stole a glance over at Natasha, who was sleeping. He adjusted his tinted sunglasses and continued to look ahead at the never-ending road. The landscape had morphed to rolling hills and empty fields, with the winds picking up remnants of dirt and pollen.

He loved the open road. It gave him clarity and time to think. He thought about bringing her back to their meeting place by the fallen log, but something in him told him to go back to Iowa. It was the first place he took her after Budapest to get their bearings straight. She had come back to him then, and he hoped it would trigger her memory again.

He reached over to the glove compartment and pulled out the picture that Pepper took for their yearbook. Never in his wildest dreams, their lives would change so much in the span of a few years, but it did.

He tucked the worn photograph back into the small compartment. Natasha stirred in her seat and her green eyes opened into narrow slits, "Good afternoon, sleepy-head."

"Funny." She stretched in her seat. Her voice was distant "Where are we at?"

"Passed the Mississippi River." His Midwestern accent clung to the syllables.

She nodded and looked out her window. Farmland surrounded the open road that was peppered with trucks and cars. "I should've stayed back with Agent Hill."

"You're wrong."

"Why is it so important for you to bring _me _along?"

"You're not you, Tash." He gripped the steering wheel tighter, wondering how to tread on this conversation.

She let out a sigh of frustration, something rarely she did, "The doctors don't know how to get my memory back." She let the silence set in before starting up again, "What _if _I like this way?" she twisted in her seat. "No one ever asked me."

"Do you want to stay this way?"

She stared at his direction, "Everything is confusing right now." She bit the corner of her lip. "Hill has been giving me spoonfuls of information."

"What do you remember?"

"Pieces," she adjusted her seatbelt, trying to pass the time. "It's a carousel of random faces with no apparent logic…and there is a fire."

Clint leaned into his seat and floored the engine. _Here we go again. _Fury had been hiding the severity of her memory lost from him. _Damn, that man. _

…

The backcountry roads were empty, but it was familiar to him. The jeep was getting closer with every mile and soon enough, the house appeared in the corner of the windshield. Iowan weathers had battered the ancient walls with the unrelenting seasons of heat and ice. Weeds overtook the field out in the back, but the pigeonholed posts from his practices remained.

Gran had left the house to him after she snow birded down to Florida. By a chance encounter with Buck, she never returned. The archer pulled into the potholed driveway and stopped underneath an oak tree. The ex-Red Room spy opened her door and looked out. "Welcome home," he called from the driver's side as he tossed his sunglasses on the dashboard.

"What is this place?"

"Home away from home." He grabbed the bags from the trunk. "It's a little banged up, but it's fixable," he mused with a grin.

She lifted an eyebrow at his remark and meandered about on the property. She walked on the sepia leaves with her black, knee-high boots. She went to the back and found the expansive view. In the distance, combines made their way on the fields, knocking down the withered corn stalks.

The peacefulness was broken as she heard her captor clamoring up a steel ladder_. What is he up to now? _ The sound of repetitive strikes against the walls drove her mad. She walked further away until she stumbled upon the broken fence with barbed wires sprouting out from the misaligned posts that were littered with holes. Out of the corner of her eyes, a red maple caught her attention. A flash of light came across her memory. She remembered the sound of laughter and a strawberry blonde teasing her.

"Everything alright?" Clint sneaked up behind her with a hammer at his side.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She tightened her mint scarf around her neck, "it's getting cold."

"I'll start a fire inside."

…

She shifted uncomfortably in his close proximity, wondering if the man ever had an off switch. He was always getting into something. He tossed the wrench aside. The unyielding pipe was jammed. "We're going to have cold showers tonight," he looked at her with a worn look.

"Give me that wrench." She snuck past him and knelt down in the tight quarters. Without warning, she slammed the metal bar against the pipe several times. The vibrations bounced off the pipe and sent dust particles falling to the ground.

Clint was dumbfounded to see the petite female at first, "Ugh…thanks," he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"Is there anything else?" She flashed her emerald eyes, while she handed the abused wrench back to him.

"No."

"Good then." She brushed past him and stormed into the living room.

He held his laugh that rumbled in his chest. In the distance, he heard her mutter several phrases in Russian…her so-called Romanoff mannerisms. One of these days, he was going to decode them. He noticed she would always repeat one word over and over again…maybe it was the word for idiot. Truth be told, he wanted to do so much with her like having sex again, but that would garner him an instant ticket to his demise with her current situation.

…

The cold air swept through the drafty house. She shifted in the creaky bed, but no matter how much she tossed and turned, she couldn't get comfortable. Her mind was racing ever since she arrived.

She padded down the stairs and found him sitting on the couch in front of the fire. He had several blankets piled around him. "I'll get the heater fixed tomorrow." He scooted across the sofa, offering a down blanket.

"Whatever you say," her green irises caught the flames, "You suck as a handyman." A wave of quietness came over her features, as there was a subtle change in her posture.

"Talk to me, Tash."

Blurry images rushed through her mind. She tried to connect the pieces, but it was a total mess with faces. Out of the slideshow, one face kept repeating. From his simple smile to his persistent gray eyes, it was always him. Random visions started to line up from a red maple, clandestine meetings by a fallen log, a dark pink rose with a gray ribbon, and an explosion. "Always," she whispered against the fire's crackling. Her jade eyes glowed with the orange waves.

"Tash," he urged her on, maintaining the two inches from her in case she pounced on him.

More images rushed towards her, and pieces began falling into place. The time he danced with her in her home for the winter formal…the time he rescued her in the night, giving her a chance to live…the time she woke up next to him in his arms as he slept.

"Clint?" she turned to him, with the blanket falling off her shoulders. She shook her head several times to clear the fog from her mind.

"I'm right here."

"What happened?" Her emerald eyes searched the room. Slowly, it dawned on her that she was back at Clint's stomping grounds.

"I don't really know." His stormy gray eyes held her image in the firelight, "You're back." He closed the small gap between them. "What do you remember last?"

"Alexei."

"Right…" he shook his head, "Anything else?"

"No." She casted her gaze back into the fire, watching the orange and yellow dance against the burning logs. "There's red in my ledger…"

"Don't go there. I'm not sure what's going to happen next." He leaned his forehead against hers, calming her down, "We'll take baby steps."

For that autumn night, they were simply Natasha and Clint, not the Black Widow or Hawkeye. S.H.I.E.L.D. can wait. He felt the weight on his chest grow heavier as he maintained his vigil on the dying flames. He wondered if she was dreaming about him. To some it would be trivial, but there was already so much history. Who knew that a chance encounter in their school's cafeteria years ago was the spark that ignited the bond between them? He nestled his head against hers and kissed the crown of her fiery locks.

He promised himself to always protect her, even though she might think otherwise. In truth, they both needed each other. One of these days, he was going to let her know, but not yet. And when that day comes, hopefully she won't run away. His eyes began to droop, but he saw a flash of green open in the darkness. Without hesitation, she kissed him on his lips. He tightened his embrace around her frame and returned the favor.

* * *

**Thank you for reading my story. I can't believe these nine months went by so quickly and thank you for sticking around for the 30 chapters! I always had the ending in mind, but never could capture their relationship entirely. Hopefully, I didn't disappoint all of my Clintasha fans.**

**Thank you to the following reviewers: Abstractly Sydney, aplatt17, Barefoot Beach Bum, Bobthepegasus, Brandi Golightly, Estele, FinallyFallingAllOverAgain, GamerFTW, Guest, Horror Wynter, IcarusOwl, jinxcharm, Joanna C, Let's Cry Over Sad Songs, LifeisNotForever-NotEvenClose, little-black-blue-hood, Lollypops101, mellbell12123, Mushroomking98, musik577, oakleaf, OwlMay, Rayne – Ashley West, RosalieRowan, Sallyc2, Shojo-Chan, Slightly Crazy Author, spooky-angel, SunnyBunnylove77, TrappedinWonderland, TheNaggingCube, WingBeat, XxTheXBlindXBanditxX, yolynnjones, and Zelda12343. Your words of encouragement kept me writing through my good and bad days. **

**Thank you to those who have added this story to their fave and story alerts. Every time, I saw an email, I was on cloud nine. Though, I would love to hear from some of you as well. **

**As for the question posed from last chapter regarding 1771, no one has answered it. Yes, it's a palindrome, but it refers to something else.**

**The inspiration to this story came from one of my favorite songs by Lifehouse, and hence the title. Secondly, I did have a Clintasha playlist. There are some references indirectly in some of the chapters.**

"**Between the Raindrops" by Lifehouse **

"**Catch my Breath" by Kelly Clarkson**

"**Dark Side" by Kelly Clarkson**

"**Distance" by Christina Perri**

"**From Where You Are" by Lifehouse **

"**Kiss Me Slowly" by Parachute**

"**Payphone" by Maroon 5**

"**Running Up That Hill" by Placebo **

"**Sparks Fly " by Taylor Swift**

"**This Woman's Work " by Greg Laswell **

**I tried to tie up loose ends, but there can be new storylines to flesh out from this universe. Other than that, my focus will be on "Come Here," and studying for board certification (equals one big medical exam). **

**Please let me know what you thought about this chapter and the story overall. What parts you liked, hated, or can be improved etc. Like my English Professor said many years ago, "Writing is a process, it's never-ending." **

**Best wishes,**

**Waterlilies **


	31. Author's Note

Hi All,

I just wanted to let you know that the sequel will be posted soon. It will be titled "Fall For You." Thanks again for all of the reviews, faves, and story alerts!

Here is a little snippet…

She fired in a rapid sequence as mannequins appeared from obscure corners. With the gunfire, she heard gasps come from behind her. She placed her Glock down and grabbed at the spare from her belt. Without flinching, she maintained her precision and accuracy.

"Is that_ the_ Black Widow?" One of the new recruits whispered to his partner.

The room went silent as another round was fired. By now, the group was breathless for they feared the woman that stood ahead of them. "Focus now," Clint barked back at the new recruits. He glared over his own partner and watched her disarm the two Glocks. She pulled off her protective glasses and tossed them at him.

"Your turn," she mused before staring down the new recruits. She eyed the infamous Hawkeye again, signaling to him that she would be seeing him later.


End file.
